BOOKS  BY  JESSE   LYNCH  WILLIAMS 

PUBLISHED    BY    CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

Princeton  Stories  (1895).     12mo $1.00 

The  Adventures  of  a  Freshman  (1899).  Illus 
trated  by  Fletcher  Ransom.  12mo  .  .  .  $1.25 

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New  York  Sketches  (1902).  With  many  draw 
ings  by  Jules  Guerin,  Henry  McCarter, 
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Story.")  12mo  $1.25 

The  Girl  and  the  Game,  and  Other  College 
Stories  (1908).  Illustrated  by  W.  T. 
Smedley,  Henry  Hutt,  and  others.  12mo  $1.50 

The  Married  Life  of  the  Frederic  Carrolls 
(1910).  Illustrated  by  F.  R.  Gruger  and 
W.  Sherman  Potts.  12mo $1.50 


THE  MARRIED  LIFE  OF  THE 
FREDERIC  CARROLLS 


"And  so  they  were  married,  and  lived  happily 
ever  after" 


You  mean  that  you're  afraid  of  mel" 


The  Married  Life  of 
the    Frederic  Carrolls 


By 

JESSE  LYNCH  WILLIAMS 


ILLUSTRATED 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

153-157    Fifth    Avenue     :    :    New    York 


Copyright,  igio,   by  Charles  Scribners  Sons 


Published  November,  igio 

Second  Impression,  December,  1910 

Third  Impression,  January,  1911 

Fourth  Impression,  February,  IQII 

Fifth  Impression,  March,  IQII 

Sixth  Impression,  May,  ign 

Seventh  Impression,  August,  1911 


To 
MY  MOTHER 

AN   OLD-FASHIONED   WOMAN   WHO 
UNDERSTANDS   THE   NEW 


577743 


Scenario 

FIRST  PART 

THEIR   "MERE   MARRIAGE" 
I.  THE  HONEYMOON 3 

Scenes:  A  sixteenth-century  Manor  House  and  a  nineteenth- 
century  Imagination. 

(With  a  romantic  overture  the  curtain  is  rung  up,  and  the 
idyllic  first  act  is  begun,  against  an  ideal  background. 
Enter,  unannounced,  an  unbidden  guest,  called  "The 
Gregarious  Instinct" — a  friend  in  the  guise  of  a  foe — 
much  to  the  alarm  of  an  orthodox  pair  of  lovers,  ill- 
prepared  for  such  emergencies.  The  honeymoon,  al 
ready  too  long,  "ends  happily.") 

II.  THE  DINERS-OUT 32 

Scenes:  The  Carrolls'  Town  House — a  "quaint  old-fash 
ioned  home,"  though  on  Manhattan  Island;  modern 
bachelor's  apartments  (with  fascinating  Bohemian  at 
mosphere);  the  Opera;  a  Police  Station. 

(One  of  the  comedies  of  gregariousness — with  a  cruel  re 
buke  for  the  complacency  of  popular  bachelors.  Also 
a  warning,  which  will  not  be  heeded,  against  the  com 
placency  of  the  happily  married.) 

III.  FREDERIC  CARROLL,  MONOGAMIST  .     .     81 

Scenes:  A  modern  woman's  club  (both  suffrage  and  anti); 
an  artist's  studio;  a  wife's  heart;  her  husband' s ;  the 
other  woman's,  and  so  on,  concluding  with  a  tableau  in 
the  North  Woods. 

("The  other  Woman,"  who  is  not  very  "unpleasant" — 
brilliantly  illuminates  certain  unforeseen  obstacles  in 
the  pretty  path  of  one  anxious  to  be  "Just  an  Old- 
Fashion  ed  Wife,"  and  yet  compelled  to  live  in  new- 
fashioned  conditions.  Then  we  may  watch  the  work 
ing  out  of  an  optimistic  intention  to  make  a  real  union 
out  of  a  mere  marriage.) 

vii 


SCENARIO  (CONTINUED) 

SECOND  PART 
THE   HOUSE   OF    CARROLL 
IV.  THE  COMEDY  OF  HOME-BUILDING  .    .  221 

Scenes:  First,  chiefly  in  the  clouds  of  sweet  illusion. 
Second,  down  to  earth,  also  sweet,  but  solid. 

(Several  years  have  elapsed,  and  the  Carrolls  have  become 
younger — at  least  they  appear  in  a  new  light,  as  to 
gether  they  face  the  pressing  problem  of  establishing  a 
new  home  for  new  Carrolls.  They  are  able  to  get  some 
fun  out  of  it.) 


V.  THE    DREAM-HOUSE — AND    THE    NIGHT 
MARE    . 253 

Scenes:  On  the  Carroll  Estate  and  on  the  Carroll  nerves. 

(A  continuation  of  the  above,  and  a  concrete  example  of 
the  insidious  delights  and  dangers  of  building  castles  in 
the  air — with  its  amusing  reactions  upon  the  Carrolls, 
who  are  foes  of  Comoromise.) 


VI.  THE  CARROLLS'  HOUSE-WARMING   .    .  283 

Scenes:  Partly  in  the  past,  partly  at  "The  Meadows" 
(proper  name  of  a  house  called  "  The  Carrolls1.") 

(Showing  how  a  home  found  itself,  and  suggesting  how 
the  Carrolls  found  themselves — an  established  unit  in  a 
conservative  circle  of  the  Nicest  People.) 


VII.  THE  FAMILY  PARTY 309 

Scenes:  The  same  set  and  properties  as  in  the  last,  but  with 
an  entirely  different  background.  Victorian  atmosphere. 
Any  American  household  of  " culture  and  refinement" 
would  do  as  well. 

(Others,  members  of  one  of  our  best  families  appear,  ex 
plaining  (by  their  silence)  much  that  has  gone  before. 
Suddenly  a  family  skeleton  is  disclosed,  the  clan  spirit 
is  aroused,  and  the  House  of  Carroll  now  seems  sound 
and  secure.) 

viii 


SCENARIO  (CONTINUED) 

THIRD  PART 

THEIR  SHARE  OF  THE  WORLD 
VIII.  THEIR  MILLIONAIRE  TENANT     .    .     .  383 

Scenes:    The   Carrolls'   celebrated  country  place  and  the 

Parkers'  expensive  boarding-house. 
(The  Acquisitive  sense  collides  with  the  Esthetic  sense — 

to  the  amazement  of  both  worthy  civilizers.     N.B. :  The 

Carrolls  formerly  owned  their  home — now  we  see  the 

home  beginning  to  own  the  Carrolls.) 

IX.  THE  CARROLLS'  FORMAL  GARDEN  .    .  433 

Scenes:  Fred's  studio,  Molly's  mind,  and  the  Carrolls' 
terrace. 

(Mrs.  Carroll  threatens  to  become  a  New  Woman,  much  to 
the  perplexity  of  her  loving  and  loved  husband.  The 
children  and  other  conservative  allies  stand  by  him,  and 
we  need  feel  little  concern  over  the  net  result.) 

X.  THE  CARROLLS'  FORTUNE 481 

Scenes:  First  act,  the  House  of  Sterling  and  the  House  of 
Carroll.  Second  act:  The  House  oj  Mammon,  and  the 
wicked  but  inspiring  -world. 

(A  logical  conclusion  to  all  that  has  preceded.  By  the 
simple  aid  of  the  "mistaken  identity"  trick  (dear  to 
dramatists)  virtue  is  easily  shown  to  triumph  inevitably, 
and  as  the  curtain  is  rung  down,  we  all  applaud  and 
turn  away  to  our  own  sweet  homes.) 


Illustrations 

"You  mean  that  you're  afraid  of  me !"  .     .     .     Frontispiece 


FACING   PAGE 


But  as  it  happened  she  did  interrupt  him,  though  not 
at  his  work 117 

While  he  was  designing  entrancing  groups  of  low,  lattice 
windows  with  hollyhocks  peeping  in 226 

Then  the  architect  wrote  the  Carrolls  a  lovely  letter,  or 
rather,  he  called  to  his  stenographer,  "Jolly  Number 
Two!" 270 

The  house  was  on  their  nerves 278 

The  discovery  of  the  skeleton  in  the  Carrolls'  closet    .     374 
" Remove  that,"  she  commanded  haughtily     ....    400 

!<I  hate  Aunt  Bella's  public  spirit,"  she  cried  vindic 
tively  563 


FIRST  PART 
THEIR  "MERE  MARRIAGE" 


"  And  so  they  were  married,  and  lived  happily  ever  after." 

i 

THE  HONEYMOON 

SCENES :     A  sixteenth-century  Manor  House  and  a  nine 
teenth-century  Imagination. 

(WITH  A  ROMANTIC  OVERTURE  THE  CURTAIN  IS  RUNG  UP, 
AND  THE  IDYLLIC  FIRST  ACT  IS  BEGUN,  AGAINST  AN  IDEAL 
BACKGROUND.  ENTER,  UNANNOUNCED,  AN  UNBIDDEN 
GUEST,  CALLED  "THE  GREGARIOUS  INSTINCT5' — A  FRIEND 
IN  THE  GUISE  OF  A  FOE — MUCH  TO  THE  ALARM  OF  AN  OR 
THODOX  PAIR  OF  LOVERS,  ILL-PREPARED  FOR  SUCH  EMER 
GENCIES.  THE  HONEYMOON,  ALREADY  TOO  LONG,  "ENDS 
HAPPILY.") 


WHEN  the  wild  rain-clouds  were  driven 
out  to  sea  at  last  the  happy  pair  had  vent 
ured  forth  from  their  secluded  retreat,  and, 
passing  through  "my  lady's  garden,"  had 
crossed  the  ancient  Bowling  Green  and 
mounted  Beacon  Hill,  where,  hand-in-hand, 
they  had  gazed  out  across  the  sparkling 
downs  as  the  sun  sank  behind  the  distant 
fringe  of  trees.  Then,  still  in  silence  (but 

3 


;:THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

still  together),  they  had  returned  to  the  ivy-= 
mantled  manor-house — all  their  own  for 
days  to  come,  with  no  fear  of  separation,  no 
danger  of  interruption. 

Here  in  the  goodly  Tudor  hall,  mellow 
with  the  tone  of  time,  before  the  smoke- 
stained  fireplace,  guarded  on  either  side  by 
carved  knights  in  armor,  the  lovers  lingered 
as  if  reluctant  to  break  the  spell,  gazing 
dreamily  into  the  glowing  embers,  while 
outside  the  wind  crooned  caressingly  about 
the  mossy  gables,  and  the  rooks  in  the 
swaying  fir-trees  called  to  one  another,  their 
clamor — now  faint,  now  clear — wafted  by 
the  wind. 

He  was  seated  in  an  immense  oak  chair 
of  richly  carved  back,  and  she  on  a  low 
stool  at  his  feet,  her  fair  head  resting  against 
his  knee  while  he  ran  his  fingers  idly  through 
her  light-brown  hair.  He  was  smoking  his 
pipe,  for  which  she  had  held  the  match,  as 
was  her  pretty  custom.  A  bit  of  unfinished 
embroidery  lay  unnoticed  at  her  side.  It 
was  all  just  as  they  had  pictured  it  in  the 
long  ago,  a  dream  come  true.  .  .  . 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

Presently  Frederic  Carroll,  for  he  it  was, 
might  have  been  seen  quietly  removing  his 
pipe  with  one  hand  while  quickly  covering 
his  mouth  with  the  other.  His  jaws  opened 
wide  with  a  spasmodic  movement,  irresisti 
ble,  pitiless;  then,  after  the  climax,  closed 
again,  softly;  this  being  followed  by  a  rapid 
blinking  of  the  eyelids,  as  though  tears  were 
there. 

Then,  suddenly  realizing  the  significance 
of  what  he  had  unwittingly  done,  Frederic 
Carroll  scowled  troubledly  and,  all  unseen 
by  her,  he  shook  his  handsome  head.  But 
he  said  nothing.  Outwardly  all  was  beauti 
ful,  and  his  silence  seemed  the  sweet  silence 
of  perfect  comradeship,  broken  only  by  the 
whisper  of  the  wind  and  the  low  moan  of 
the  distant  sea. 

II 

Shall  we  penetrate  the  disturbing  secrets 
behind  that  troubled  brow  and  see  just  what 
was  the  matter  ? 

When  the  beautiful  dream  was  first  at 
tained  it  had  all  seemed  too  good  to  be  real, 

5 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

but  now  with  nothing  else  to  think  about, 
nothing  else  for  a  usually  busy  man  to  do 
all  day,  it  was  fast  becoming  too  real  to  be 
good.  There  were  to  be  four  more  weeks 
of  this  before  he  could  get  back  to  his  work 
— which  he  also  loved — and  he  was  wonder 
ing  how  he  could  keep  up  the  pace. 

True,  this  was  precisely  what  he  had 
worked  for,  lived  for,  longed  for.  He  had 
won  what  he  wanted,  and  now  would  he  stop 
wanting  what  he  had  won  ?  It  was  miserably 
unfair  to  the  charming  creature  at  his  feet, 
but  he  couldn't  help  it.  He  was  doing  his 
best  to  keep  on  loving  her;  yet  already  there 
had  come  times  when  he  did  not  thrill  at 
hearing  her  light  staccato  step  approaching 
along  the  passage.  Even  now  he  could  look 
down  upon  her  there  in  the  soft  light  of  the 
afterglow  without  feeling  "an  irresistible 
impulse"  to  take  her  in  his  arms.  If  it 
were  as  bad  as  this  in  two  months  what 
would  it  be  in  a  year — in  a  lifetime  of  fire 
side  companionship  ?  He  shut  his  eyes  as  if 
afraid  to  face  the  appalling  picture.  She  was 
so  young  and  so  fair,  and  he  was  so  bored. 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

He  wondered  how  she  could  keep  on  lik 
ing  it.  But  that,  it  seemed,  was  the  nat 
ure  of  woman.  Had  not  the  poets,  the  true 
lover's  only  Baedeker,  declared  that  love 
was  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart,  but  of  wom 
an's  life  the  whole  business  ?  She  did  not 
seem  to  mind  seeing  no  one  but  him;  she 
liked  being  shut  in  by  the  rain.  The  home 
was  woman's  sphere.  She  had  become 
habituated  to  it  by  centuries  of  training— 
the  only  really  domesticated  animal. 

Presently  Molly,  for  it  was  no  other, 
looked  up  at  her  husband  and  smiled. 
"  Fred,"  she  asked  drolly,  "are  you  still  hap 
py  in  your  'new  life'  in  your  ' little  home'  ?" 

He  chuckled  fondly,  as  she  knew  he 
would,  for  he  always  did  when  she  bur 
lesqued  Aunt  Bella's  sentimental  phrases, 
especially  as  their  little  home  was  consider 
ably  larger  than  any  they  ever  expected  to 
occupy  again — at  least,  until  their  new  life 
was  considerably  older.  It  was  an  historic 
estate,  founded  centuries  before,  added  to 
and  subtracted  from  in  various  succeeding 
centuries  of  war  or  affluence  and  now  in- 

7 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

trusted  for  a  short  term  to  these  young 
Americans  at  what  seemed  a  ridiculously 
low  rental.  They  had  seen  the  advertise 
ment  of  it  in  Country  Life,  had  fallen  in 
love  with  the  pictures,  and  had  snapped  it 
up,  poor  innocents,  without  understanding, 
being  Americans,  certain  quaint  old  Eng 
lish  customs  which  made  the  rent  but  one 
small  factor  in  the  expense  of  leasing  quaint 
old  English  places. 

Frederic  Carroll,  "the  promising  young 
portrait  painter,"  had  received  a  commis 
sion  for  some  illustrations  of  certain  historic 
scenes  in  this  interesting  part  of  England 
for  one  of  the  magazines  at  home.  At  his 
bachelor  dinner,  which  seemed  years  ago, 
he  had  boasted  laughingly  of  his  parsi 
mony.  "Not  every  bridegroom  can  make 
his  honeymoon  pay!"  he  had  said,  with  a 
humorous  swagger. 

To  be  sure,  the  illustrations  were  only  a 
month's  work,  but  with  Molly  at  his  side, 
with  the  inspiration  of  love — not  to  speak 
of  the  spur  of  necessity — he  had  counted 
upon  bringing  home  enough  landscapes 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

from  this  charming,  Constablesque  country, 
unappreciated  by  most  painters,  to  warrant 
the  extra  expense.  But  he  had  not  counted 
upon  its  raining  every  day  for  a  month. 

However,  both  of  them  had  read  and 
dreamed  for  years  of  just  such  a  place  as 
this  (you  see  how  congenial  they  had  thought 
they  were),  and  as  neither  expected  ever 
to  have  another  honeymoon  (they  had 
laughingly  agreed  upon  this  matter  too) 
they  meant  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Well, 
they  were  doing  so. 

But  three  months  meant  three  moons, 
and  there  are  other  foods  than  honey. 
Men,  especially  those  who  smoke,  are  not  so 
fond  of  sweets  as  women  are.  It  seems  that 
there  are  also  other  worthy  instincts  in  life 
besides  the  mating  instinct,  though  that 
may  be  the  prettiest  and  most  potent.  For 
instance,  there  is  the  instinct  for  work,  and 
there  is  the  gregarious  instinct.  Even  to 
the  best  of  mated  couples  in  the  most 
"ideal"  surroundings — with  entrancing 
walled  gardens  and  avenues  of  firs,  with 
copses,  swales,  downs;  moors,  fens,  and 

9 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

even  a  haunted  chamber — the  low  insistent 
call  of  the  tribe  will  sometimes  penetrate. 

In  those  first  idyllic  days,  when  it  all 
seemed  too  wonderful  to  be  believed,  when 
transported  by  the  glory  of  loving  some 
thing  better  than  one's  self — the  period 
upon  which  poets  are  inclined  to  dwell  to 
the  exclusion  of  what  follows — they  were 
both  perfectly  convinced  that  never  again 
should  they  want  any  one  in  their  cosmos  but 
each  other.  In  fact,  a  universe  alone  would 
have  suited  them  very  well,  or  a  delightful 
desert  island;  at  the  very  least,  a  privately 
owned  wilderness.  But  as  that  was  not 
altogether  practicable  they  had  rented  a 
wilderness,  this  very  charming  one,  in  a 
remote  corner  of  the  world,  far  from  home 
and  free  from  friends,  where  they  had  no 
more  to  do  with  their  English  neighbors, 
who  were  inclined  to  be  kind,  than  cour 
tesy  demanded. 

But,  alas!  even  with  the  one  woman  in 
the  world  the  wilderness  was  not  paradise 
enow  for  Frederic  Carroll.  For  that  matter, 
it  had  not  proved  to  be  enough  even  in  the 

10 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

case  of  Adam  and  the  one  woman  then  in 
the  world,  though  theirs  was  a  real  paradise, 
and  Adam,  it  will  be  recalled,  had  not  ac 
quired  the  unfortunate  habit  of  earning  his 
own  loaf  and  jug  of  wine— another  respect 
in  which  he  had  the  advantage  over  his 
young  descendant,  Fred;  if  it  was  an  ad 
vantage.  And  yet,  like  many  a  misled  lover 
before  him,  here  was  a  bridegroom  who 
felt  himself  horribly  lacking  in  the  prime 
essentials  of  an  orthodox  husband,  because 
he  was  rapidly  becoming  bored  to  death  at 
being  cooped  up  through  a  long,  rainy  season 
in  a  fascinating  old  manor-house  with  the 
only  girl  he  had  ever  really  loved. 

Now  that  his  dream  was  demolished, 
would  the  old  haunting  nightmare  come 
true  ?  For,  previous  to  meeting  the  one 
woman  in  the  world,  though  he  had  adored 
other  women  in  the  world  for  days  at  a 
time — even  weeks — he  had  always  feared 
("something  told  him")  that  if  ever  he 
learned  to  love  any  of  them  enough  to  marry 
them  he  would  afterward  learn  to  hate 
them  enough  to  wish  he  hadn't.  This 

IT 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

seemed  such  an  ungrateful  way  to  treat 
some  sweet,  unsuspecting  girl  who  would 
trust  him  and  give  him  "her  all"  that  he 
had  often  felt  quite  sorry  for  the  poor  thing 
and  wondered  what  she  looked  like  and 
whether  she  would  prefer  to  call  him 
"dearest/'  or  merely  "Fred." 

Thus  it  was  that,  being  a  calm,  unim- 
pulsive  fellow,  he  had  remained  a  lonely 
old  bachelor  until  the  mellow  age  of  twenty- 
five.  Then  the  great  miracle  happened. 
He  met  Molly.  One  look  into  her  frank, 
amused  eyes,  and  straightway  he  forgot 
everything  else,  including  his  previously 
interesting  self.  Her  he  would  love  so 
long  as  he  had  breath  in  his  body,  though, 
being  a  calm,  unimpulsive  fellow,  he  had 
not  told  her  so  until  the  third  time  he  had 
looked  into  them. 

She  had  merely  laughed  at  him  and  said 
she  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  which  only 
made  him  the  more  convinced  that  they 
had  been  meant  for  each  other  from  the 
dawn  of  time.  It  was  not  so  easy,  however, 
to  convince  her  of  this,  for  she,  too,  was 

12 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

something  of  a  painter  and  seemed  more  in 
terested  in  her  career  for  the  time  being. 
But  when  at  last  the  golden  moment  came 
when  he  held  her  in  his  arms  in  man- 
fashion  she  too  felt  sure  that  they  were 
meant  for  each  other  from  the  beginning, 
and  that  therefore  they  would  have  to  be 
together  to  the  end.  She  did  not  laugh  at 
him  now.  She  wept  a  little. 

That  was  the  only  reason  they  had  con 
descended  to  be  married.  For  neither  of 
these  modern  young  persons,  it  seems,  had 
cherished  a  very  high  regard  for  this  well- 
meaning  institution  of  matrimony,  though 
their  ancestors  had  been  addicted  to  it,  it 
could  not  be  denied  (nor  did  they  try  to 
deny  it),  as  far  back  as  the  records  ran, 
which  was  quite  far  back,  as  such  things 
run,  on  both  sides. 

Well,  it  is  only  in  certain  low  forms  of 
animal  life  and  fiction  that  this  consumma 
tion  is  followed  by  death  or  "THE  END." 
They  did  not  die.  This  was  not  the  end. 
It  was  only  the  beginning.  That  was  love. 
This  was  marriage — civilization's  attempt 

13 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

to  compromise  with  nature,  which  smilingly 
refuses  to  take  civilization  so  seriously  as 
we  do.  Marriage  follows  love,  sometimes; 
love  would  follow  marriage  more  often  if 
its  neophytes  weren't  so  misguided  by  those 
who  tell  about  it — or  discreetly  decline  to 
do  so. 

Never  having  been  married  before,  young 
Frederic  wanted  to  do  the  right  thing  in 
the  right  way.  He  wanted  to  make  more  of 
a  success  of  marriage  than  of  anything  he 
had  ever  undertaken.  And  yet,  by  clinging 
to  the  most  approved  ideals,  according  to 
the  best  social  and  literary  traditions,  he 
had  made  the  disconcerting  discovery  that 
even  the  most  perfect  thing  was  imperfect. 
Or,  that  he  -was.  Or  else  (perish  the 
thought)  that  she  was! 

In  after  years,  if  their  wedding  should  be 
come  a  marriage  (unless  in  the  meanwhile 
it  divorced  them)  they  might  possibly  be 
able  to  stand  seeing  so  much  of  each  other. 
They  might  even  enjoy  it.  Such  things 
have  been  known  to  happen.  But  why 
should  they  have  been  led  to  expect  it  now  ? 

14 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

A  mere  boy  and  girl,  carefully  trained  to 
be  uncongenial,  utterly  unacquainted,  but 
thinking  they  knew  each  other  well  because 
they  had  wanted  each  other  much.  Did 
they  propose  to  keep  on  sighing  and  dying 
for  blisses  and  kisses  ?  Even  poets,  as  a 
matter  of  fact  and  prose,  have  been  known 
to  get  over  it — that  over-worked  affair  of  the 
Brownings  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
For  with  the  best  intentions,  it  is  difficult 
to  keep  on  longing  for  what  one  already 
has. 

And  yet  a  few  well-developed  longings 
seem  necessary  for  human  progress.  Surely 
we  prefer  to  see  all  living  beings  make  prog 
ress,  even  though  married — unless  they 
belong  to  those  lower  forms  of  life.  Indeed, 
it  is  all  the  more  important  to  do  so  when 
one  has  a  wife  to  protect  and  cherish.  .  • .  . 
Fred,  who  had  acquired  the  commendable 
habit  of  working  hard  in  the  world  of  men, 
was  longing  ardently  to  get  back  to  work, 
was  sighing  hungrily  for  the  fellowship  of 
men,  who  also  worked — and  talked  his 
own  language. 

15 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

III 

The  wind  had  left  off  crooning  and  was 
now  beginning  to  howl  dismally  about  the 
mossy  gables  of  their  paradise. 

"I  am  afraid  the  roses  along  the  wall  will 
be  bruised,"  said  Molly,  the  tender  hearted. 
She  was  so  domestic.  He  believed  in  having 
them  domestic. 

"Poor  little  roses,"  he  replied,  sympa 
thetically.  She,  he  thought,  was  like  a  rose, 
a  delicate  hot-house  rose,  transplanted  from 
a  kind  father's  home,  a  tender  mother's 
protection,  out  into  the  cold  world,  and 
now  at  the  mercy  of  a  strange  man.  Must 
she  too  be  bruised  and  buffeted  by  the 
storms  of  life?  No!  not  while  he  had  a 
strong  arm  to  defend  her,  a  tongue  to  lie 
to  her.  His  dream  was  shattered  but  hers 
should  remain. 

Suddenly,  as  if  reading  his  thoughts,  his 
wife  turned  and  confronted  him.  "Why 
are  you  so  silent?" 

"Silent?"  he  echoed,  a  little  startled. 
"Why,  I  was  just  thinking,"  he  added  en- 

16 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

thusiastically — "I  was  just  thinking  how 
quiet  and  nice  it  was  here  now  that  the 
Winstons  are  gone  and  we  can  have  each 
other  all  to  ourselves  again!"  He  be 
lieved  that  he  ought  to  be  glad  that  his 
guests  were  gone,  so  he  tried  to  persuade 
himself  by  saying  it  often.  Mental  healers 
work  wonders  in  that  way. 

The  Winstons,  while  motoring  though  the 
country,  had  discovered  the  Carrolls,  had 
made  a  week's  visit,  and  had  made  poor 
Fred  realize  what  a  shamefully  over-de 
veloped  gregarious  instinct  he  had.  It 
amounted  almost  to  a  passion.  He  caught 
himself  looking  back  with  a  sort  of  senti 
mental  yearning  upon  that  all  too  brief 
visit,  now  over  and  done  for.  The  fun  the 
four  of  them  had  together,  the  gayety  at 
dinner,  the  quick  talk  and  laughter!  Even 
breakfast  had  been  objective  and  enjoyable. 
And  then  that  blessed  car  of  the  Winstons! 
The  good  fresh  air,  the  frolicsome  fun,  the 
runs  to  unknown  far-away  towns,  with 
glimpses  of  the  glad  outside  world,  now  so 
remote  and  unattainable. 

17 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"I  believe  you  miss  them  horribly!"  said 
his  wife  teasingly,  yet  with  a  wistful  little 
look  in  her  soft  eyes.  "Do  you,  Fred  ?" 

Women  are  so  queer  about  some  things; 
they  must  be  assured  and  reassured.  "  Miss 
them!"  He  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her 
white  brow.  That  was  the  answer  a  woman 
likes.  He  had  read  it  in  a  book.  "I  need 
exercise,  that's  all.  I'm  used  to  taking  a 
good  deal." 

She  patted  his  hand  after  the  fond  man 
ner  of  women.  "Good  old  Fred,"  she 
whispered.  "To-morrow  we'll  take  a  long 
walk  whether  it  rains  or  not." 

Outwardly  he  beamed,  but  inwardly  he 
writhed.  Before  his  marriage  he  had  been 
an  honest,  fearless  young  man,  but  now, 
it  seemed,  he  would  have  to  be  a  liar  all 
the  rest  of  his  life — a  liar  to  the  one  he 
wanted  most  to  be  honest  with.  What  a 
life!  What  a  travesty  on  that  beautiful 
dream  of  perfect  understanding  and  mutual 
sympathy! 

But  what  a  noble  hero  he  was  (if  he  had 
only  known  it)  to  sacrifice  himself,  and 

18 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

even  truth,  for  the  sake  of  the  woman  he 
loved!  No,  it  was  even  more  heroic  than 
that;  it  was  for  the  sake  of  the  woman  he 
no  longer  loved.  Any  man,  even  a  black 
guard,  can  perform  noble  deeds  for  the 
woman  he  adores,  but  to  sacrifice  himself 
for  the  sake  of  a  woman  who  bores  him! 
It  takes  a  true  nobleman  to  reach  such 
heights.  It  is  quite  likely  that  Fred  Carroll, 
plain  American,  was  nobler  far  than  any 
of  the  Christian  knights  who  had  sat  before 
that  ancient  fireplace  in  the  gallant  days  of 
old— getting  drunk — but  he  wasn't  thinking 
about'  that.  He  was  thinking  about  the 
Winstons. 

He  wondered  why  he  missed  them  so;  in 
his  bachelor  days  they  had  never  appealed 
to  him  especially.  But  it  had  seemed  good 
to  have  a  man  about  again,  some  one  to 
slap  on  the  back,  some  one  to  smoke  and 
drink  and  sit  up  late  with,  talking  shop 
and  gossip  by  the  fireside  after  the  girls  had 
gone  to  bed;  and  good  to  see  a  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  tennis  net,  instead  of  the 
woman  who  was  meant  for  him  from  the 

19 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

beginning  of  time  (and  the  end  thereof), 
some  one  to  whom  it  was  not  necessary  to 
serve  easily,  for  whose  sake  he  need  not 
cheat  himself  in  the  score;  some  one  with 
whom  it  was  fun  to  compete. 

But  that  was  only  natural  and  manlike. 
The  chagrinning  recollection,  the  unman 
ly  truth,  was  that  he  had  been  able,  willing 
— nay,  glad — though  married  so  short  a 
time,  to  tear  himself  away  from  his  fair 
bride  and  go  with  Tom  on  a  long  tramp 
over  the  hills  for  two  whole  days!  He  knew 
men — long-married  men — who  boasted  of 
never  having  been  separated  from  their 
loving  wives  for  twenty-four  hours.  He 
had  rather  expected  to  be  that  sort  him 
self.  .  .  He  suspected  now  why  they  boasted 
about  it.  Marriage  was  an  endurance  con 
test. 

Such  an  agreeable  change  had  it  been, 
indeed,  to  get  away  from  his  beloved  help 
meet  and  have  at  last  not  a  dainty  feminine 
stroll  (hand-in-hand)  but  a  real  walk, 
twenty-five  good  sweating  miles  a  day  with 
a  companion  who  was  not  liable  to  damp 


20 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

skirts  or  draughts  or  fatigue — such  a  joyous 
relief  that  this  unromantic  bridegroom  ran 
and  jumped  and  frisked  about  like  a  half- 
broken  colt  released  at  last  from  the  chafing 
double  harness.  He  sang,  he  swore,  he 
even — ah,  me ! — he  even  spat  upon  the  neat 
English  highways.  Such  was  the  trans 
forming  influence  of  holy  matrimony  upon 
an  imperfectly  domesticated  animal  named 
Fred. 

"I  ran  across  Fred  Carroll,"  Tom  wrote 
to  a  mutual  friend,  "with  his  pretty  bride 
in  his  grand  old  place  by  the  sea.  She  is 
a  good  sort — just  the  girl  for  him.  My 
wife  is  crazy  about  her.  But  Fred  is  too 
much  married.  I  had  great  difficulty  in 
coaxing  him  away,  but  I  finally  persuaded 
him  to  leave  the  girls  at  home  for  a  couple 
of  days  and  we  took  a  walking  trip — at  a 
frightful  pace.  He  is  so  happily  married 
that  he  only  touched  the  high  places — 
would  have  done  forty  miles  the  first  day  if  I 
hadn't  held  him  in.  But  one  thing  struck 
me  as  odd.  You  know  he  never  used  to 
drink  much  in  the  old  days,  but  that  night  at 

21 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

dinner  at  an  old  inn  he  almost  put  your 
humble  servant  under  the  table!" 

Life  had  taken  on  a  new  meaning  for 
Frederic  Carroll. 

IV 

Once  more  the  long  silence  of  perfect 
comradeship  was  broken  by  Molly.  "  Dear 
est,  if  we  hadn't  this  expensive  place  on  our 
hands  shouldn't  you  like  to  go  back  to  '  the 
States'?" 

He  was  startled.  Was  she  reading  his 
mind  ?  But  he  recovered  himself  quickly. 
"What!  leave  this  paradise?  Should  you 
like  it?"  He  could  hardly  hope  that  she 
would  say  yes. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,  dear/'  she  said 
sweetly.  (A  true  woman.) 

"Of  me!"  Again  he  gave  her  the  ortho 
dox  answer  (on  her  fair  cheek  this  time). 
She  was  always  thinking  of  him,  God  bless 
her!  One  is  supposed  to  love  them  for  that. 
But  somehow  it  was  like  the  chocolate  cake 
she  had  surprised  him  with  at  his  birthday 
dinner.  It  was  awfully  dear  of  her,  but,  as 


22 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

it  happened,  he  did  not  care  for  chocolate 
cake.  (What  should  one  do  in  such  a  case  ? 
Fred,  being  noble,  ate  three  pieces  beam 
ingly — and  then  had  indigestion.) 

"How  about  your  work?"  she  asked  in 
nocently.  "  If  this  weather  continues,  what 
will  you  have  for  that  exhibition  Tom  was 
talking  about?"  Clearly  something  had 
aroused  her  suspicions.  Or  was  it  his 
guilty  conscience  ? 

He  made  answer  without  flinching. 
"Honeymoons  come  but  once  in  a  lifetime," 
he  said,  and  "Thank  Heaven!"  he  added 
under  his  breath. 

Suddenly  she  turned  and  searched  his 
eyes  with  a  look  that  made  him  tingle  with 
dread.  "Fred,"  she  asked,  without  any 
twinkling  drollery,  without  any  fond  smile— 
"Fred,  do  you  really  enjoy  being  cooped 
up  here  in  this  lonely  place  with  me?" 
(No  doubt  of  it  now!  Something  had  told 
her — probably  her  intuitions;  their  intui 
tions  are  wonderful.)  "No,  Fred,  never 
mind  kissing  me;  I  want  the  truth.  You 
know  we  promised  always  to  be  honest 

23 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

with  each  other.  Remember,  there  are  to 
be  four  more  weeks  of  this,  and  John,  the 
gardener,  says  they  are  more  than  likely  to 
be  rainy.  Do  you  really  think  you  can  stand 
it?  Answer  me  truly,  dear!" 

It  was  the  supreme  moment  of  their  life 
together.  Her  happiness  hung  in  the  bal 
ance,  hung  on  him.  Though  in  a  dreadful 
panic  he  arose  to  the  occasion  and  perjured 
himself  like  a  gentleman. 

"Stand  it!  Why,  Molly,  isn't  it  the 
dream  of  my  life  ?  The  thing  I  lived  for, 
worked  for,  all  these  years  ? "  He  looked 
down  upon  her  with  a  tender  pity  for  the 
poor,  deceived  creature.  He  leaned  forward 
to  take  the  dear,  trustful  little  thing  in  his 
strong,  protecting  arms,  and  apply  more 
adjectives  to  her. 

But  with  a  shudder  she  sprang  out  of  his 
reach.  "Then  all  I  have  to  say,"  she  burst 
out  impetuously,  "is  that  you  married  the 
wrong  girl  and  I  married  the  wrong  man! 
You  may  be  able  to  stand  it,  but  I  can't,  and 
I  won't!  To  you  it  may  be  a  dream,  but  to 
me  it's  a  nightmare.  No,  don't  stop  me 

24 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

now.  You  may  as  well  know  the  worst. 
I  suppose  it  will  break  your  heart;  it  has 
almost  broken  mine.  I  have  been  fighting 
and  fighting  against  it,  but  I  have  realized 
it  every  day  since  the  Winstons  left:  /  am 
bored  to  death!"  And  she  gazed  defiantly 
into  his  startled  eyes. 

Oh,  how  he  loved  her  for  those  words! 
But  for  the  moment  he  was  too  astonished 
to  say  so,  even  if  she  had  not  gone  on  with 
out  pause,  seeming  to  find  "a  fierce  delight" 
in  rudely  awakening  him  from  his  dream, 
in  exposing  herself  in  all  her  shameless  wick 
edness.  The  words  rushed  out  like  water 
through  a  broken  dam: 

"  I  am  tired  of  hanging  about  this  dreary, 
draughty  old  ruin.  I  like  you  more  than 
anybody  in  the  world,  but  I  am  tired  of 
seeing  so  much  of  you.  I  am  tired  of  sitting 
on  this  hard  stool  looking  sentimentally 
into  the  fire.  I  want  to  see  some  one  else 
once  in  a  while.  I  want  to  see  my  girl 
friends.  I  want  them  to  see  my  pretty 
clothes.  They  would  appreciate  them.  I 
want  to  go  home.  I  want  to  live  like  other 
married  girls,  in  an  apartment,  if  necessary, 

25 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

even  a  horrid,  cramped,  vulgar  little  bit  of 
a  one,  if  it  only  has  a  big  porcelain  bath  and 
plenty  of  hot  water.  I  could  even  stand 
steam  heat — I  haven't  been  warm  since  we 
came  here.  I  want  a  home  of  my  own, 
something  to  do.  I'm  not  used  to  idleness. 
I'm  not  domestic  either,  if  you  must  know 
it.  But  if  I  can't  paint  I  must  do  something. 
There's  nothing  here  to  do  all  day  long 
except  put  flowers  in  vases  and  look  sweet 
and  hear  how  much  you  love  me.  I  have 
heard  that  already;  I  can  take  it  for  granted 
now.  I  want  something  else.  I  hate  sew 
ing,  I  hate  embroidery.  I  only  pretended 
to  like  it,  to  please  you.  These  supercilious 
servants  won't  let  me  do  anything  else,  ex 
cept  order  the  meals  and  ring  for  tea,  tea,  tea! 
If  I  so  much  as  touched  a  dust-cloth  Mary 
would  give  notice.  If  I  raised  the  window 
to  air  my  own  bedroom  Susan  would  re 
mind  me  with  her  eyebrows  that  Lady 
Harriet  didn't  do  that.  I  want  to  go  home— 
I  want  to  go  home!" 

There  was  a  pause.  In  fact,  a  ghastly 
silence. 

Her  husband  was  in  a  daze,  trying  to 
26 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

adjust  himself  to  this  topsy-turvy  world. 
"I — I  am  surprised/'  he  stammered,  and 
indeed  he  was. 

"I  knew  you  would  be,"  she  said,  weep 
ing  now  and  hiding  her  face,  "but  the  truth 
had  to  come  out  some  time.  Think  what 
it  means  to  me!  I  know  I  am  spoiling  your 
life.  You  are  so  noble,  so  kind,  so  good — 
but  I  am  falling  out  of  love  with  you  every 
minute.  Fred,  I  always  told  you  I  didn't 
deserve  this  great  b\-blessing!"  and  then  she 
broke  down  and  sobbed. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence, 
then  said:  "And  I  thought — all  this  time 
I  thought  that  I  was  making  you  complete 
ly  happy!" 

"That  is  just  the  trouble,"  she  went  on, 
between  sobs  of  shame;  "you  are  always 
making  me  so  happy,  so  uncomfortably 
comfortable.  You  are  always  stuffing  sofa- 
cushions  behind  my  back;  but  when  you 
leave  me  I  throw  the  hateful  things  across 
the  room.  I  don't  love  you  as  you  deserve 
to  be  loved,  and  I  can't.  I'm  not  going 
to  pretend  any  longer.  It's  unfair  to  you, 
and  it's  killing  me.  I'd  rather  separate. 

27 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

I'd  rather  go  back  to  my  father's  home 
before  it  is  too  late  to  correct  this  ghastly 
mistake.  I  always  said  I  hated  marriage. 
Well,  I'm  beginning  to  hate  my  own  mar 
riage.  I  hate  myself,  I  hate  you!" 

He  had  not  supposed  it  was  quite  as 
ghastly  as  all  that,  and,  being  a  fatuous 
male  man,  he  began  to  feel  genuinely 
alarmed.  "Do  you  mean  that  I  am  not 
the  right  one,  after  all?" 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  be!  If  you 
were  I  should  enjoy  all  this — just  as  you  do, 
poor  dear." 

She,  too,  had  her  heavy  handicap  of 
"ideals." 

"Molly!"  he  cried,  seeing  a  ray  of  hope 
and  taking  a  bold  step  toward  her,  "I  am 
the  right  man,  we  are  well  mated,  and  I'll 
prove  it."  He  paused  and,  drawing  him 
self  to  his  full,  proud  height,  added  trium 
phantly,  "7,  too,  am  bored  to  death!"  and 
then  he  burst  out  laughing. 

In  dumb  amazement  she  gazed  at  him 
with  ever-widening  eyes,  while  he  plunged 
on  recklessly,  and  into  his  voice  there  came 
the  clear,  exultant  note  of  a  soul  set  free: 

28 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"I  am  so  bored  that  I  can't  think,  can't 
work,  can't  see  straight;  so  bored  that  / 
dont  even  enjoy  my  meals!  Now  you  know 
why  I've  been  so  silent,  so  depressed.  You 
may  think  you  are  bored — but  oh,  Molly,  if 
you  only  knew  how  I  feel!" 

She  hesitated  no  longer,  but  rushed  tow 
ard  him  wildly.  "Fred!"  she  cried,  also 
laughing,  "  how  congenial,  how  perfectly  con 
genial  we  are!"  It  does  not  take  women 
so  long  to  adjust  themselves.  (Intuition, 
perhaps). 

He  gathered  her  eagerly  into  his  capable 
arms.  "Molly,"  he  whispered,  holding  her 
close,  "let  us  give  up  these  confounded  ideal 
surroundings;  let  us  go  home  and  begin  life 
anew  ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  interval  while  they 
began  life  anew,  without  even  waiting  to  go 
home. 

"And  do  you  really  mean,"  she  sighed 
happily,  "that  you  are  sick  of  mooning  be 
fore  this  awful  fireplace?"  It  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true. 

"Sick  to  death  of  it!"    he  muttered  pas- 

29 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

sionately  as  he  drew  her  to  him  again; 
"your  head  against  my  knee  always  used 
to  put  my  leg  to  sleep/' 

"Oh,  you  darling!"  she  cried  ecstatically, 
"it  always  gave  me  the  dreadfullest  crick 
in  my  neck." 

They  laughed  and  laughed,  gazing  at  each 
other  with  new  interest,  so  fascinated  that 
they  scarcely  seemed  aware  of  the  entrance 
of  the  austere  English  servant  bearing  tea. 

"And  you  were  actually  growing  tired 
of  kissing  me  ?"  she  asked  adorably. 

"I  was!"  he  answered,  kissing  her  ar 
dently. 

"So  was  I!"  she  echoed,  kissing  him 
contentedly. 

Then,  full  of  "a  strange  peace,"  they 
took  their  places  before  the  congenial  fire 
place,  while  the  wind  howled  romantically 
about  the  mossy  gables  of  the  charming  old 
manor-house. 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 


"It  all  goes  to  show,"  said  Fred,  as  side 
by  side  they  sailed  back  for  their  own 
country,  their  own  tribe,  their  own  work 
in  the  world,  "it  all  goes  to  show  that  we 
were  meant  for  each  other  from  the  begin 
ning.  Doesn't  it,  dearest?" 

"Well,  at  any  rate/'  said  Molly,  smiling 
up  into  his  face,  "we  are  meant  for  each 
other  to  the  end.  So  we'd  better  tell  the 
truth  along  the  way." 


II 

THE   DINERS-OUT 

SCENES:  The  Carroll?  Town  House  — a  "quaint  old- 
fashioned  home,"  though  on  Manhattan  Island ;  modern 
bachelor's  apartments  (with  fascinating  Bohemian  atmos 
phere};  the  Opera;  a  Police  Station. 

(ONE  OF  THE  COMEDIES  OF  GREGARIOUSNESS — WITH  A 
A  CRUEL  REBUKE  FOR  THE  COMPLACENCY  OF  POPULAR 
BACHELORS.  ALSO  A  WARNING,  WHICH  WILL  NOT  BE 
HEEDED,  AGAINST  THE  COMPLACENCY  OF  THE  HAPPILY 
MARRIED.) 

I 

IT  is  to  be  feared  that  early  in  her  hazard 
ous  career  as  a  wife  Molly  Carroll  failed 
to  appreciate  all  of  her  husband's  dear  old 
friends.  We  refer  at  present  to  some  not 
of  her  own  sex.  This  seems  strange,  too, 
since  each  one  of  them,  according  to  no  less 
an  authority  than  Frederic  Carroll,  whose 
judgment  she  still  respected,  happened  to 
be  the  best  fellow  in  the  world. 

But  there  seemed  to  be  such  an  alarming 
number  of  best  fellows  in  the  world.  New 
ones  were  constantly  turning  up  for  dinner, 

32 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

whose  names,  even,  Fred  had  never  men 
tioned,  painters  and  architects  of  the  Paris 
period  of  her  husband's  past,  or  mere  social 
acquaintances  of  his  brilliant  bachelor  days 
in  New  York  (meaning  not  the  only  true, 
"Literary  and  Artistic"  elect),  or  old  friends 
of  the  Carroll  family  who  knew  and  appar 
ently  cared  more  about  the  gossip  and 
family  connections  of  that  illustrious  clan 
than  Molly  did,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  dis 
playing  that  fact. 

Fred,  who  was  passionately  gregarious, 
loved  them  all.  Despite  his  Great  Happi 
ness  he  enjoyed  having  them  about — per 
haps  because  of  his  Great  Happiness  he  was 
no  longer  so  scornful  and  fastidious  as  when 
a  mere  looker  on,  "an  amateur  of  life."  He 
was  now,  it  seems,  a  part  of  the  great 
scheme  of  things.  Love  had  aroused  the 
godlike  quality  of  man,  and  he  pronounced 
it  all  very  good.  He  had  had  a  revelation. 
There  was  no  longer  any  distinction  of  clean 
and  unclean.  This  may  account  for  his 
broad-minded  approval  of  brokers,  mer 
chants,  and  others  not  of  the  only  true  elect. 

33 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  since  these  two 
were  now  one,  his  wife  was  also  expected 
to  love  all  these  dear  old  friends,  even  the 
strange,  uncouth  ones,  diamonds  in  the 
rough  which  would  never  become  smooth. 
She  was  expected  to  achieve  enthusiasm 
over  them  at  once,  while  they  waited,  as 
it  were;  though  it  was  sometimes  difficult 
to  give  the  illusion,  especially  while  they 
waited  for  dinner,  if  Fred  had  not  telephoned 
that  he  was  bringing  them.  (He  learned 
better  after  he  became  thoroughly  broken.) 
Leading  in  a  grinning,  embarrassed  best 
fellow  in  the  world,  "Molly,"  he  would 
quietly  announce,  as  if  wanting,  under  the 
characteristic  Carroll  reserve,  to  say  "I 
have  a  great  surprise  for  you" — and  sure 
enough  he  had — "Molly,  this  is  Sammy  I" 

And  then  he  would  beam  with  quiet  sat 
isfaction  from  one  to  the  other,  rejoicing 
that  these  two  human  beings  were  now  to 
have  the  inestimable  privilege  of  knowing 
each  other  at  last,  while  she  would  do  her 
best  to  beam  too,  wondering  meanwhile 
what  Sammy's  last  name  might  be  (the 

34 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Carrolls  were  too  reserved),  and  whether  the 
steak  was  big  enough  for  three;  and  Sammy 
would  beam  most  of  all,  wondering,  in  turn, 
what  Fred  saw  in  this  slip  of  a  brown-eyed 
girl  to  make  such  a  fuss  over.  For  since  his 
marriage  Fred  had  worn  a  sanctified  look, 
as  of  one  set  apart,  and  shunned  the  club, 
except  on  rare  occasions;  and  then  seemed 
quite  benign  and  deep — no  longer  cynical 
and  facetious,  like  the  unmarried  cubs,  who 
did  not  understand  life's  full  meaning. 

In  so  many  cases,  it  seemed  to  her,  Fred 
and  his  dear  old  friend  no  longer  found  each 
other  so  very  delightful,  having  so  little  in 
common,  except  the  past — rapidly  becoming 
smaller  and  less  significant  with  the  perspec 
tive  of  time,  but  still  roseate  and  precious. 
However,  if  they  were  no  longer  particularly 
congenial  they  steadfastly  refused  to  admit 
it,  and  laughed  immoderately  at  each  other's 
jokes,  asking,  in  pauses,  eager,  unintelligent 
questions  about  each  other's  jobs,  in  which 
more  than  likely  they  weren't  at  all  inter 
ested,  though  they  pretended  to  be. 

It  was  very  amusing  and  rather  pathetic 

35 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

to  Molly  looking  on.  Friendship  seemed  to 
be  more  important  to  men  than  to  women, 
though  she  would  never  admit  it  to  Fred. 
She  sometimes  thought  that  men  were 
really  the  more  sentimental  sex,  and  that 
women  were  merely  said  to  be,  because  men 
preferred  to  think  so,  and  because  emotion, 
which  is  not  the  same  as  sentiment,  was  so 
much  more  important  to  woman,  it  being 
her  chief  stock  in  the  only  trade  man,  as 
yet,  thoroughly  approves  for  woman,  though, 
of  course,  men  didn't  call  it  a  trade.  They 
were  too  chivalric — too  sentimental. 

The  attitude  of  Fred's  friends  toward 
her,  now  that  she  was  a  wife,  was  also 
amusing,  at  times  irritating.  For  she  had 
not  yet  learned  her  place.  Some  of  them 
regarded  her  with  a  deeply,  but  respectfully 
distant,  air  of  devotion.  Others  looked  at 
Fred  with  quizzical  pity,  though  she  was 
not  supposed  to  see  it,  and  upon  her  as 
a  nuisance,  until  they  became  really  ac 
quainted.  Then  they  told  her  for  hours 
and  hours  about  their  love  affairs — assum 
ing  that  she  was  interested  and  sympathetic, 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

and  so  she  was,  though  sometimes  rather 
sleepy — until  they  got  wives  of  their  own, 
and  then  came,  with  the  wives,  an  entirely 
new  set  of  complications. 

Others,  who  had  had  unfortunate  affairs, 
seemed  full  of  earnest  sentimental  appro 
bation,  as  if  constantly  saying  "Dear  old 
Fred — lucky  dog."  And  still  others  who 
had  the  reputation  of  being  popular  with 
women  were  effusively  gallant,  as  if  they 
were  gay  old  blades  saying  "The  Ladies — 
God  bless  'em,"  every  few  minutes. 

Nearly  all  of  these  various  friends,  how 
ever,  seemed  sane  and  comfortable  enough 
while  talking  to  Fred,  but  the  moment  she 
appeared  the  atmosphere  changed  like  their 
facial  expressions  and  they  began  to  exe 
cute  curious  mental  and  physical  gyrations 
of  pyrotechnical  politeness,  exploding  oc 
casionally  with  a  complicated  compliment. 
They  didn't  enjoy  it  much  more  than  did 
she  or  Fred  (who  looked  vaguely  delighted), 
but  they  seemed  to  think  that  this  was  the 
way  to  perform  before  the  ladies,  God 
bless  'em,  and  she  being  a  member  of  the 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

only  truly  chivalric  sex  pretended  to  like  it, 
as  became  a  dutiful  wife  and  perfect  hostess, 
just  as  she  pretended  to  be  worsted  in  argu 
ment  sometimes  when  she  wasn't,  in  order 
to  spare  their  masculine  pride — as  became 
the  weaker  sex. 

She  was  beginning  to  see  now  why  it  was 
that  so  many  men  in  America  shunned  the 
society  of  women  unless  in  love  with  them. 
Women  were  a  thing  apart  from  real  life, 
and  there  was  only  one  way  to  talk  to  them, 
only  one  use  for  them.  In  France,  where  she 
spent  much  of  her  girlhood,  when  a  woman 
married  she  had  her  fling,  her  chance — not 
merely  at  lovers,  as  so  many  good  Americans 
thought  who  had  read  certain  kinds  of 
French  fiction — but  at  talk,  at  conversa 
tion,  at  banter,  give  and  take,  playing  with 
other  ideas  than  sex  ideas. 

But  most  men  at  home  seemed  to  think 
that  women,  young  women,  pretty  women, 
shouldn't  have  ideas  at  all,  and  as  most  of 
them  had  none  themselves,  except  about 
business  and  sport,  there  was  no  real  con 
versation  except  with  those  who  could  talk 

38 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

about  Fred's  business.  It  seemed  permis 
sible  for  women  to  have  opinions  about 
that,  because  art  was  a  mere  luxury  and 
had  nothing  to  do  with  real  life,  so  most  of 
them  thought.  Women  were  supposed  to 
be  a  mere  decoration,  as  in  other  semi-bar 
baric  stages  of  civilization,  an  expensive 
luxury  which  has  become  a  necessity,  or 
a  habit,  like  tobacco;  used  by  some  as  a 
sedative,  by  others  as  a  stimulant.  And  as 
she  happened  to  be  Fred's  costly  decora 
tion  most  of  them  seemed  to  think  that 
they  ought  to  let  her  alone  now,  except  to 
admire  her  and  appraise  her  worth.  It  is 
always  rather  astonishing  to  young  women 
who  have  numerous  men  friends  to  find, 
upon  marriage,  how  many  of  them  were 
potential  lovers.  .  .  . 

She  told  Fred  that  she  wasn't  quite  sure 
whether  she  was  a  sedative  or  a  stimulant. 
But  Fred  said  she  was  a  darling,  and  as  his 
friends  continued  to  treat  her  as  "a  cunning 
little  thing,"  in  these  early  days  of  learning 
her  place  Molly  mentally  retired,  except 
when  a  chosen  few  came  to  the  house,  and 

39 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

looked  on  at  the  comedy  of  friendship  with 
amused,  detached  interest.  Sometimes  she 
retired  physically.  Judging  from  the  un 
strained  note  in  their  voices  as  soon  as 
she  left  the  room,  many  of  them  enjoyed  her 
absence  better  than  her  presence. 

II 

Irving  Lawton  and  Horace  Beck,  the 
two  men  Molly  was  inviting  to  meet  her 
country  cousins  at  dinner,  were  dashing 
young  bachelors  in  great  demand.  One 
was  long  and  thin,  and  made  dry,  humorous 
observations.  The  other  was  short  and 
cherubic  and  laughed  at  them.  So  they 
were  handy  to  have  about,  both  in  town 
and  country  houses. 

Irving  and  Horace  liked  being  of  use  to 
their  friends.  They  were  the  sort  of  gay 
and  smiling  bachelors,  chiefly  infesting  our 
cities,  who  believe  it  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive,  and  seem  ever  willing  to  let 
their  married  friends  have  all  the  blessings, 
thus  disproving  the  charge  of  selfishness  in 
bachelors.  Hospitality  is  too  sacred  a 

40 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

thing  to  regard  as  a  mere  matter  of  barter 
and  exchange,  of  give  and  take  for  value 
received.  Irving  and  Horace  were  above 
any  such  sordid  view.  Well,  since  plenty  of 
their  married  friends  were,  too,  these  spright 
ly  young  bachelors  fared  sumptuously. 
They  dined  out  so  often  that  they  saved 
money  enough  on  meals  to  pay  the  dues  at 
more  clubs  than  certain  of  their  married 
hosts  could  afford.  They  had  no  stable  of 
their  own,  but  they  rode  thoroughbreds 
at  week-end  parties,  supplying  their  own 
riding  breeches.  They  possessed  no  auto 
mobiles,  but  they  often  drove  their  friends' 
cars,  talking  the  language  fluently.  They 
owned  no  yachts,  but  on  the  annual  cruise 
of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  there  they 
were,  cutting  capers  upon  the  deck.  They 
had  no  wives,  but  enjoyed  the  society  of 
other  men's,  sometimes  proving  more  amus 
ing  companions  than  knit-browed  husbands 
who  worked  more  or  less  hard  to  pay  for 
all  this.  In  short,  Irving  and  Horace  lapped 
the  cream  of  life  without  doing  any  of  the 
milking,  and  yet  some  people  wonder  why 
bachelors  don't  marry. 

41 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"Marry!"  as  Irving  said  one  day  to  the 
delectable  and  important  Mrs.  H.  Harrison 
Wells.  "  My  dear  lady,  my  income  wouldn't 
pay  for  your  shoes.  I  can't  think  of  mar 
riage."  Perhaps  this  was  an  understate 
ment  of  Irving' s  income,  for  Irving  was 
"doing  well"  for  so  young  a  man;  but  he 
was  one  of  those  who  think  that  all  of  the 
very  wealthy  enjoy  flattering  references  to 
their  wealth.  Mrs.  Wells  did  not  think 
much  about  wealth,  not  having  earned  it. 
She  never  displayed  it  consciously.  But  she 
thought  a  good  deal  about  her  pretty  feet, 
and  always  displayed  them.  So  Irving's 
flattering  reference  scored  after  all. 

Then  Horace,  the  fat,  comfortable  one, 
added  broad-mindedly  as  he  lit  one  of  Harry 
Wells's  famous  cigars:  "There  is  nothing 
I'd  like  better  than  to  have  a  charming  wife 
like  you,  and  a  spacious  country-seat  like 
this,  and  keep  it  well  filled  with  guests — 
like  us.  But  when  you  are  poor,  what  is  a 
fellow  to  do  ? "  And  he  chuckled,  blowing 
smoke  in  complete  comfort. 

Some  men  mope  and  moan  about  it  and 
feel  sorry  for  themselves.  That  is  foolish. 

42 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

The  right  thing  to  do  is  to  play  the  man, 
bear  up,  and  make  the  best  of  it,  like  Horace 
and  Irving.  Time  and  again  the  Burgundy 
was  not  warm  enough,  but  they  never  ut 
tered  a  word  of  complaint,  draining  several 
glasses  in  tactful  silence.  If  their  host  failed 
to  send  the  car  down  to  the  station  to  meet 
them  they  philosophically  hired  a  public 
conveyance,  no  matter  how  badly  it  smelled, 
and  drove  up  smiling.  When  the  girls 
the  hostess  had  invited  to  amuse  them  were 
not  bright  nor  good-looking  they  did  not 
avoid  them  pointedly,  as  some  men  do,  but 
graciously  talked  to  them  now  and  then, 
and  quite  forgave  their  hostess — if  she 
wouldn't  do  it  again. 

Irving,  the  tall  one,  was  quite  dis 
tinguished  looking  and  had  a  mustache  that 
turned  up  at  the  corners.  This  went  well  with 
his  way  of  saying  "Aw,  aw,"  when  he  began 
his  humorous  observations,  in  a  voice  that 
went  high  up  in  the  scale  and  slid  down  again 
delightfully.  The  ladies  told  him  he  looked 
and  talked  exactly  like  an  English  Guards 
man.  He  came  from  Martinsville,  Ohio. 

43 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Horace  was  of  an  old  New  York  family — 
the  Becks.  Strangely  enough,  he  was  not 
so  aristocratic  in  appearance,  manner,  or 
tastes  as  his  room-mate;  but  when  your 
great-grandfather  has  smoked  a  pipe  on  the 
stoop  of  his  shop  in  Wall  Street  every 
evening  for  years  and  years,  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  you  are  not  obliged  to  show  how 
high  bred  you  are — it  goes  without  saying. 
Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  Horace  tried  to  bow 
and  talk  like  Irving,  but  it  didn't  seem  to  go 
with  his  face  and  figure.  Besides,  Irving 
did  not  like  it. 

Irving  was  a  literary  man.  Horace  was 
literary,  too — that  is,  he  had  a  job  in  a 
publisher's  office;  but  he  was  literary  all 
the  same.  He  wrote  the  advertisements  of 
Irving' s  stories,  showing  how  trenchant, 
gripping,  and  full  of  red  corpuscles  they 
were.  It  is  much  harder  to  advertise  books 
than  to  write  them.  Ask  any  publisher. 

Irving  wrote  lovely  stories.  They  were 
about  perfectly  beautiful  New  York  girls, 
who  invariably  lived  on  the  most  expensive 
part  of  the  Avenue  and  always  kept  brough- 

44 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

ams  or  limousines  waiting  outside,  whether 
mother  or  any  of  the  other  girls  might  want 
to  use  them  or  not.  But  then,  to  be  sure, 
each  member  of  the  family  had  at  least  one 
apiece.  The  men  in  Irving' s  stories  were 
fine  fellows,  too.  They  always  had  clean 
limbs — ''well-groomed,  clean-limbed  Amer 
ican  manhood."  They  also  had  silk  socks 
to  put  upon  the  limbs,  and  valets  to  keep 
the  limbs  clean.  All  of  which  helped  them 
to  do  noble  deeds  for  the  beautiful  girls  in 
that  quiet,  off-hand  manner  so  characteristic 
of  our  distinguished  American  aristocracy 
of  wealth.  These  stories,  which  would  give 
the  aristocracy  quite  an  uplift  if  they  had 
only  read  them,  made  not  a  little  stir  out  in 
Martinsville,  where  every  one  read  them. 

Irving  made  something  of  a  stir  himself 
when  he  went  back  home  on  holidays. 
The  boys  hadn't  yet  learned  to  wear  their 
mustaches  that  way  in  Martinsville.  Per 
haps  they  were  jealous.  The  girls,  too, 
smiled  a  little  behind  Irving's  back  and 
wondered  how  long  it  had  taken  him  to 
learn  to  talk  that  way;  he  did  not  do  it  when 

45 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

he  used  to  go  buggy-riding  with  them  a  few 
years  before;  but  they  flocked  about  him,  all 
the  same,  and  smiled  very  differently  to  his 
face.  Women  are  so  much  kinder  than  men. 

It  was  two  of  these  very  girls  that  Molly 
Carroll  had  invited  the  popular  pair  to 
meet  at  dinner  on  the  eighth.  She  thought 
it  would  be  nice  for  them  to  see  one  another 
and  talk  over  old  times.  Besides,  the 
bachelors  had  once  been  old,  if  not  inti 
mate,  friends  of  Fred's. 

The  young  Carrolls,  it  must  be  confessed, 
were  not  much  like  the  people  in  Irving's 
stories.  They  were  more  like  the  people 
who  bought  them.  They  did  not  live  on  the 
fashionable  part  of  the  Avenue,  or  on  the 
Avenue  at  all.  There  were  no  expensive 
vehicles  waiting  before  the  door,  not  even 
baby-carriages — as  yet — which  are  expen 
sive  enough  for  the  majority  of  those  up 
lifted  by  Irving's  stories.  And  yet,  though 
not  rich  nor  fashionable,  they  were  "nice" 
and  came  of  "good  people"  on  both  sides. 

They  seemed  to  have  no  social  ambitions. 
Such  things  are  known  to  happen,  even  in 

46 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

New  York.  They  enjoyed  meeting  their 
friends,  but  that  was  because  it  meant  a 
pleasant  time,  not  because  it  would  get 
them  somewhere.  They  even  enjoyed  visits 
from  their  country  cousins.  Some  of  the 
nicest  New  Yorkers  have  country  cousins, 
it  is  said.  Molly  was  very  fond  of  hers,  and 
even  of  some  of  Fred's. 

They  loved  Molly,  too,  though  they  were 
rather  perplexed  by  her  choice  of  a  "little 
home"  when  they  came  to  see  her  in  her 
"new  life/5  Instead  of  choosing  a  flat  in  a 
fashionable  apartment-house  more  or  less 
near  the  Avenue,  with  an  imposing  entrance 
downstairs  containing  appropriately  dressed 
diplomats  and  other  expensive  furniture, 
the  Carrolls  had  taken  a  house,  a  small  stone 
house,  away  up  near  the  end  of  Manhat 
tan  Island,  miles  away  from  everybody.  It 
was  what  is  called  a  "quaint  old  house," 
and  went  well  with  their  doggedly  Colonial 
wedding-present  furniture.  It  had  a  grass- 
plot  in  front  and  a  small  garden  in  the 
rear — luxuries  not  common  in  New  York. 
Molly  loved  it  and  raised  violets.  "Those 

47 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

who  don't  care  enough  for  us  to  come  this 
far  to  see  us  needn't  come,"  said  Molly, 
picking  violets. 

Now,  though  Fred  felt  sorry  for  such  of 
his  old  friends  as  were  not  married,  he 
tried  not  to  show  it  when  on  those  (as  yet) 
rare  occasions  he  dropped  in  at  the  club 
looking  sanctified.  Nevertheless,  he  could 
not  help  feeling  proud  of  his  pretty  wife  and 
of  his  achievement  in  winning  and  keeping 
her,  though  he  tactfully  avoided  all  refer 
ence  to  such  matters  in  the  presence  of  poor 
old  bachelors  like  Irving  and  Horace,  just 
as,  in  former  times,  when  he  became  popu 
lar  and  successful  he  had  not  let  it  make 
"the  slightest  difference."  To  tell  the  truth, 
he  had  never  cared  much  for  the  Irving  and 
Horace  type,  but  they  had  cared  for  him  in 
the  old  dreary  days  of  his  early  success — at 
least,  they  had  flattered  him  and  sought  him 
out — and  he  did  not  propose  to  slight  them 
now  merely  because  he  had  attained  Great 
Happiness.  He  took  for  granted  that  his 
society  was  even  more  desirable  now,  with 
the  added  attraction  of, the  one  woman  in 

48 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

the  world.  Of  recent  years  he  had  not 
seen  much  of  this  pair.  He  was  aware 
that  they  had  become  social  butterflies,  but 
he  did  not  criticise  them  for  that.  It  was 
perfectly  natural  for  those  who  have  not  yet 
attained  the  real  things  of  life  to  console 
themselves,  meanwhile,  with  artificial  things. 
He  had  once  been  a  bachelor  himself.  He 
had  strolled  through  Vanity  Fair  and  come 
out  upon  the  other  side,  mellow  and  benevo 
lent. 

The  premature  unworldliness  of  the  hap 
pily  married  is  a  dreadful  handicap  to  true 

success. 

Ill 

"But  I  tell  you  we've  got  to  go  up  there 
some  time!"  said  Horace  to  Irving,  who 
seemed  annoyed  at  Molly's  invitation, though 
she  meant  no  harm  by  it. 

"We've  always  got  out  of  it  before,"  said 
Irving. 

"But  we  owe  it  to  poor  old  Fred!  He 
needs  us;  he  needs  stirring  up." 

Now,  if  Horace  had  been  selfish,  as  bach 
elors  too  often  are  represented  to  be,  he 

49 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

would  not  have  let  friendship  stand  in  the 
way  of  his  own  comfort,  not  even  when  an 
old  friend  is  too  much  married  and  needs 
stirring  up.  They  are  much  misunder 
stood. 

"Fred's  a  dear  old  dub,"  Irving  admit 
ted,  "and  his  wife  seems  to  be  a  nice  little 
thing,  though  she  doesn't  interest  me;  but 
it's  such  an  awful  distance  to  go  for  din 
ner!"  There  are  limits  to  the  sacrifices 
one  can  make,  even  in  friendship.  "They 
show  poor  head  in  burying  themselves  away 
up  there  in  the  wilds.  I  can't  imagine  why 
they  did  it." 

"How  about  those  girls  from  Martins- 
ville,  'O.'?"  asked  Horace  Beck,  of  the 
Beck  family,  smiling.  "  Don't  they  interest 
you?" 

"They  are  good-looking  girls,"  answered 
Irving  loyally;  "you'd  be  surprised  to  see 
how  smart  they  are — they've  lived  abroad 
and  all  that — but  I  haven't  seen  anything 
of  them  for  years  and  years  ['yahs  and 
yahs'].  I  scarcely  know  them  now,"  he 
added,  twisting  up  his  mustache.  "Be- 
so 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

sides,  they'll  want  to  talk  literature  to  me, 
and  you  know  how  I  hate  intellectual  wom 
en."  It  was  a  perfectly  natural  distaste. 
When  you  have  been  making  literature  all 
day  you  want  to  get  away  from  it  at  night 
fall,  just  as  the  poor,  tired  business  man, 
when  he  goes  to  the  theatre,  prefers  chorus 
girls  to  mere  muck-raking  or  problem  plays. 

Now,  some  people,  when  they  receive  an 
invitation  they  do  not  care  to  accept,  simply 
decline  it  forthwith,  saying:  "Another  en 
gagement."  Irving  and  Horace  were  more 
honest.  They  always  waited  for  the  other 
engagement  first.  Or,  if  no  more  attractive 
invitation  turned  up,  they  accepted,  with 
apologies  for  their  unavoidable  delay. 

This  time,  although  they  patiently  waited 
five  days,  nothing  had  turned  up  except  a 
subscription  dance  (tickets  five  dollars)  and 
a  charity  concert  (admission,  three  dollars, 
programmes  extra),  and  these  causes  did 
not  interest  them.  Honest  poverty  is  no 
disgrace.  Charity  should  begin  at  home. 

"Why  don't  they  answer!"  Molly  was 
saying.  "But  it's  just  like  bachelors,"  she 

51 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

went  on;  "they  never  think  of  any  one's 
comfort  or  convenience  but  their  own.  Do 
you  realize  that  we  have  invited  those  *  dear 
old  friends'  of  yours  to  dine  with  us  three 
times  ?  and  they've  never  so  much  as  asked 
me  to  their  rooms  for  tea,  as  other  bachelors 
do.  I  don't  believe  they've  even  had  you 
at  the  club  as  their  guest,  though  others  do 
that,  too." 

Loyal  Fred  considered  this  unworthy  of 
his  wife.  "You  know  perfectly  well,"  he 
said,  looking  hurt,  "that  they  cannot  afford 
to  entertain."  It  was  true.  There  were 
many  drains  upon  Irving's  royalties,  Hor 
ace's  salary — clothes,  club  dues,  taxis,  the 
apartment-house  valet,  luncheons  at  Sherry's, 
flowers  for  Mrs.  Wells,  and  the  outrageous 
amount  one  was  compelled  to  give  up  in 
tips  every  time  one  went  to  Aiken  or  the 
Adirondacks,  or  even  on  a  friend's  private 
car.  Servants  are  such  parasites. 

"  Dear  me ! "  laughed  Molly.  "  I  don't  ex 
pect  them  to  return  my  invitations,  merely 
to  accept  them — or,  if  they  don't  care  to 
do  that,  to  decline  them,  so  I  can  fill  their 

52 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

places.  But  they  won't  even  do  that — until 
it  suits  their  convenience.  They  com 
placently  take  it  for  granted  that  we  are  so 
delighted  to  have  them  that  we'll  meekly 
put  up  with  any  kind  of  treatment  and  think 
it  quite  picturesque  and  interesting — so  gay 
and  dashing!" 

"Then  why  do  you  invite  them?  They 
don't  ask  you  to."  Fred  was  becoming 
indignant,  possibly  because  he,  too,  was 
provoked.  Wives  have  a  dreadful  way  of 
poisoning  innocent  husbands'  minds. 

Now,  Molly  might  truthfully  have  replied: 
"Because  you  begged  me  to,  dearest!"  but 
she  was  too  clever  for  that.  "Simply  be 
cause  hostesses  must  have  some  one  to 
amuse  the  girls,"  she  said,  and,  generally 
speaking,  this  was  even  more  truthful. 
"But  the  joke  of  it  is  that  bachelors,  even 
the  best,  believe  that  girls  are  invited  to 
amuse  them!  You  see,  dear,  all  the  nicest 
men  are  married,  so  we  have  to  put  up  with 
what's  left.  Consequently,  the  left-overs 
are  invited  about  so  much  that  they  get  it 
fixed  in  their  silly,  conceited  heads  that 

53 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

they  are  fascinating.  It's  only  that  they  are 
bachelors — unattached  nonentities,  hangers- 
on,  sycophants,  fillers-up  of  vacant  places — 
the  chorus  in  the  comic  opera  of  society. 
How  I'd  like  to  show  them  what  we  really 
think  of  them!" 

"Oh,  they'll  learn  their  place  fast 
enough,"  said  Fred  after  a  thoughtful  pause, 
"when  they're  married." 

Molly  did  not  like  that  at  all.  So  she 
showed  Fred  his  place  by  ordering  him  to 
the  telephone.  "Tell  your  dear  old  friends 
that  I  must  know  at  once,"  she  said,  adding 
to  herself  with  a  curious  smile,  "Men  like 
Irving  and  Horace  never  marry.  That's 
the  worst  of  it!" 

"I  wonder  if  you  received  a  note  from 
my  wife  the  other  day  ? "  began  Fred  pleas 
antly,  over  the  telephone.  "We  thought  it 
might  have  gone  astray." 

"Oh,  yes!  Yes,  we  got  it — yes,  indeed!" 
answered  Horace,  turning  on  enthusiasm. 
"  Isn't  it  odd  ? — we  were  just  on  the  point 
of  writing — just  this  minute — must  have 
been  telepathy!" 

54 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"I  see,"  interpolated  Fred.  "Well,  1 
hope  we  can  count  upon  you,  because— 

"But  we  had  a  tentative  engagement  for 
that  evening,"  Horace  went  on,  sparring  for 
time  and  beckoning  wildly  for  his  room 
mate,  who,  being  a  lazy  literary  man,  was 
just  awake.  Fred  had  elected  to  call  them 
up — and  down — at  their  fascinating  bache 
lor  quarters  in  an  old-fashioned  part  of 
town  with  a  delightful  Bohemian  atmos 
phere — "a  tentative  engagement  for  that 
evening,"  continued  Horace  glibly;  "we've 
been  trying  to  get  out  of  it.  You  know,  one 
doesn't  like  to  decline  invitations  to  your 
house  unless  one  is  compelled  to,  and  we've 
always  had  such  hard  luck  before,  you 
know ' 

"Tell  them,"  whispered  Molly  at  Fred's 
elbow,  "that  I  can't  wait  any  longer." 

"It's  the  Fred  Carrolls,"  whispers  Hor 
ace  to  Irving.  "Quick!  what'll  I  tell 
them?" 

"But  are  you  coming?"  asked  Fred. 

"We  certainly  are!"  answered  Horace, 
who  was  rattled,  but  seemed  to  be  more  en- 

55 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

thusiastic  than  ever.  "It  will  be  perfectly 
bully.  Thank  you  ever  so  much.  Thurs 
day  evening."  Then,  turning  to  Irving, 
who  had  begun  to  scowl  and  shake  his  sleepy 
head  violently:  "Well,  what  could  I  do? 
They  had  me  with  my  back  against  the 
wall.  Now,  if  you  only  got  out  of  bed  at 
a  decent  hour  you  could  attend  to  these 
things  yourself."  Room-mates  sometimes 
address  each  other  thus  in  private,  though 
you'd  never  suspect  it  of  this  pair,  to  see 
them  laughing  affectionately  at  each  other's 
stories  in  public. 

"Do  you  want  to  go  away  up  there  on  a 
crowded  Harlem  train,  and  eat  a  dinner 
cooked  by  an  Irish  Biddy  and  talk  about 
Henry  James's  style  to  a  couple  of  strenuous 
females  ?"  asked  Irving,  yawning.  He  was 
detaching  the  interesting  appliance  which 
held  his  mustaches  fascinatingly  erect  while 
asleep.  "Do  you  want  to  sit  around  in  a 
stuffy  little  'parlor'  and  admire  the  wedding 
presents?"  he  went  on,  becoming  more 
and  more  eloquently  awake.  "Do  you 
want  to  watch  poor  old  Fred  Carroll  fetch 

56 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

and  carry  for  his  wife,  like  a  well-trained 
dog,  and  wag  his  tail  and  look  proud  of 
himself  for  it  ?  Do  you  want  to  watch  them 
hold  hands  before  everybody,  and  worry 
about  each  other's  health,  and  say:  'Aren't 
you  in  a  draught,  dearest?'  Do  you  want 
to  waste  a  perfectly  good  evening  on  that 
sort  of  thing?" 

"No,"  laughed  Horace,  who  admired  his 
room-mate's  style  more  than  Henry  James's 
— "No,  I  don't;  but  we've  got  to  now, 
whether  we  want  to  or  not.  So  we  may  as 
well  make  the  best  of  it."  He  was  a  philoso 
pher. 

Now,  Molly  knew  something  about  din 
ners,  even  though  she  belonged  to  no  clubs. 
She  came  of  a  family  given  to  eating  and 
drinking,  and  was  proud  of  it.  And  she 
knew  something  about  men,  even  though  she 
was  "a  nice  little  thing."  She  knew,  for  in 
stance,  that  certain  of  Fred's  friends  were 
not  so  envious  of  his  happy  lot  as  he  beam 
ingly  took  for  granted.  But  she  did  not 
mean  to  let  him  know  that.  She  was  of  the 
inferior  sex.  Man  is  the  natural  leader. 

57 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

When  she  first  met  them  Molly  had  not 
tried  very  hard  to  please  the  fastidious  pair; 
perhaps  because  they  seemed  pleased  enough 
already  with  themselves.  Being  a  bride, 
she  wanted  them  to  talk  about  what  a  won 
derful  fellow  Fred  was,  as  friends  of  the 
groom  should  always  do.  But,  perhaps, 
they  in  turn  believed  she  knew  that  already, 
and,  being  very  young  bachelors,  they  pre 
ferred  to  show  what  wonderful  fellows  they 
were  themselves,  which  did  not  interest  her, 
being  a  bride. 

Now,  however,  she  was  no  longer  a  bride, 
basking  in  self-satisfied  bliss  and  a  beauti 
ful  trousseau.  She  was  a  wide-awake  wife, 
with  a  helplessly  devoted  husband  to  look 
out  for,  who  might  not  stay  so  devoted  if 
she  did  not  look  out.  Perhaps  the  bache 
lor's  slights  had  awakened  her;  more  likely, 
Fred's  unexpected  slur  on  marriage — the 
first  he  had  ever  uttered.  At  any  rate,  this 
dinner  was  not  to  show  off  the  happiness  of 
their  New  Life  in  their  little  home — after 
all,  a  vulgar  exposure  to  bachelors,  even 
when  interesting — but  the  cleverness  and 

58 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

charm  of  their  bachelor  friends,  and  to 
prove  what  a  pleasant  evening  they  could 
have  at  the  Carrolls'. 

She  made  Fred  drop  in  at  the  club  for  a 
brace  of  the  bachelor's  favorite  vintage  of 
Burgundy.  "And  carry  the  bottles  all  the 
way  home  yourself,  please,  dear;  as  care 
fully  as  if  they  were  twins."  The  wine  was 
not  to  be  shaken  into  unrecognizability. 
She  bought  a  copy  of  Irving' s  new  book. 
She  placed  it  upon  the  drawing-room  table 
— but  not  too  conspicuously.  She  took 
pains  to  cut  all  the  leaves,  a  precaution 
well-meaning  hostesses  should  never  omit. 
She  looked  up  Horace's  strikingly  printed 
"fall  list"  of  fiction,  red  blood  and  blue, 
sweet  stories  and  salacious  ones;  she  learned 
all  the  titles  by  heart.  If  occasion  arose  she 
could  say:  "I  know  how  you  hate  to  talk 
shop,  but— 

As  for  the  cousins,  she  knew  they  would 
play  the  game  without  coaching  from  the 
side  lines,  having  been  carefully  trained  for 
the  particular  purpose  of  pleasing  bachelors 
since  earliest  infancy.  So,  reminding  her- 

59 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

self  to  smile  whenever  Irving  was  funny,  to 
be  thrilled  when  Horace  played  his  tricks 
with  coins,  and  even  to  appear  silently  im 
pressed  at  the  carefully  casual  references 
they  both  would  make  to  the  grand  Mrs. 
H.  Harrison  Wells  as  "Mrs.  Harry" — with 
all  these  aids,  such  as  she  used  to  contrib 
ute,  without  conscious  preparation,  to  all 
men  before  she  acquired  one  of  her  own 
and  ceased  to  struggle — Molly  expected  her 
little  dinner  to  establish  relations  upon  a 
new  basis  as  well  as  to  give  her  cousins  a 
perfectly  lovely  time. 

IV 

It  was  an  eminently  delicious  dinner 
which  now  at  last  was  ready  to  be  an 
nounced.  The  candles  in  the  old-fashioned 
candle-sticks  were  lighted.  The  wedding 
silver,  still  new-looking,  was  waiting  in 
bright  expectancy.  The  cousins  had  hooked 
each  other  up  in  the  back,  and  Fred  had 
hooked  Molly  up  in  the  back,  and  they, 
too,  were  waiting  in  bright  expectancy 
before  a  welcoming  fire  in  a  very  old- 

60 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

fashioned  fireplace.  Some  other  guests  ar 
rived,  entered  smilingly,  began  talking  in 
the  vague,  amiable  manner  of  people  wait 
ing  for  dinner — and  kept  on  waiting  and 
becoming  more  vague,  less  amiable,  for 
fifteen  minutes.  The  bachelors  were  late. 

"Cars  blocked  again/'  thought  Fred. 

"The  dinner  will  be  ruined/'  thought 
Molly. 

"  I  don't  believe  he'll  come  at  all,"  thought 
the  cousins.  They  enjoyed  laughing  about 
Irving's  conceit  and  affectations,  but,  all 
the  same,  they  were  in  a  flutter  over  seeing 
the  celebrity,  and,  perhaps,  they  would 
boast  about  it  in  Martinsville.  Only,  they 
would  do  it  in  the  form  of  new  stories  about 
his  incurable  habit  of  boasting. 

"Aren't  you  all  starved?"  asked  Molly, 
rising. 

"  Oh,  give  them  five  minutes  more,"  plead 
ed  Fred,  glancing  nervously  at  the  clock — 
wedding  present  from  Cousin  George. 

"I'm  going  to  investigate,"  said  his  wife, 
and  stepped  out  to  the  telephone  in  the  hall, 
the  others  all  listening  attentively  with  the 

61 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

uninterested  expression  of  those  pretending 
to  do  nothing  of  the  sort. 

According  to  the  boy  answering  in  the 
apartment-house  the  two  gentlemen  had 
gone  out  ten  minutes  before,  dressed  ap 
parently  for  dinner. 

"Ah,  simply  mistook  the  hour,"  said 
Fred,  brightening. 

"The  absent-mindedness  of  genius,"  said 
one  of  the  hungry  guests,  an  original  chap, 
and  the  others  laughed,  especially  the  cousins. 

"Those  fellows  are  much  given  to  din 
ing  out,"  explained  Fred  loyally;  "usually, 
it's  at  a  later  hour  than  ours.  Wait  just  a 
little  longer,  dearest." 

"We  might  as  well,"  said  Molly,  sinking 
into  a  chair;  "the  dinner  is  done  to  death, 
anyway — and  it  was  such  a  good  one!" 

Half  an  hour  later  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic 
Carroll,  their  cousins  from  the  country  and 
the  other  guests  sat  down — not  to  a  delicious 
dinner,  but  a  warmed-over  meal.  It  was 
as  stiff  as  their  conversation  had  long  since 
become.  The  gay  bachelors  did  not  turn 

up  at  all. 

62 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

It  so  happened  that  when  the  last  guest 
had  said  good-night,  telling  Mrs.  Carroll 
what  a  perfectly  delightful  evening  it  had 
been — though  they  all  left  early — Molly 
walked  over  to  the  table,  picked  up  Irving' s 
book  with  its  charming  picture  of  a  girl  upon 
the  cover,  both  wealthy  and  beautiful,  and 
hurled  it  at  the  fire,  now  smouldering  and 
discouraged;  an  act  which  the  cousins 
applauded  and  Fred  thought  entrancing, 
though,  being  an  orderly  chap,  he  picked 
up  the  book  again.  "Ah!"  she  exclaimed, 
her  eyes  suddenly  caught  by  something  in 
the  evening  paper  upon  which  the  book 
had  been  carefully  placed.  "This  explains 
it  all,"  she  said  to  herself.  An  item  in 
that  important  portion  of  the  day's  his 
tory  of  civilization  known  as  the  society 
column  acquainted  the  world  with  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  H.  Harrison  Wells  also  was  giv 
ing  a  dinner  that  evening. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Fred. 
" Where  are  you  going?" 

"I'm  going  to  find  out,"  said  Molly,  step 
ping  resolutely  to  the  telephone  once  more. 

63 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Find  out  what?" 

But  she  was  busy  giving  a  number. 
Presently  the  others  heard  her  inquire: 
"  Could  you  tell  me  if  Mr.  Irving  Lawton 
and  Mr.  Horace  Beck  are  there?" 

The  Wellses  had  almost  as  many  men- 
servants  in  their  house  as  Irving  had  in  his 
stories.  "Yes,  madam,"  answered  one  of 
them:  "but  the  gentlemen  are  still  smok 
ing." 

"Then  please  don't  disturb  them,"  said 
Molly  considerately,  and  hung  up  the  re 
ceiver. 

"Your  two  dear  old  friends,"  she  an 
nounced  icily,  approaching  her  husband, 
"are  dining  at  Mrs.  Wells's.  They  were 
asked  to  fill  a  couple  of  places  at  the  last 
moment,  I  suppose.  They  couldn't  resist." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  then:  "The  in 
sufferable  snobs!"  broke  out  Fred,  amazed, 
aroused,  furious  at  last.  "That's  the  last 
time  they'll  ever  be  invited  to  my  house." 
He  had  quite  the  head  of  the  house  manner. 
The  three  girls  were  thrilled  by  it.  Women 
nearly  always  love  it. 

64 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Is  that  Mrs.  Harrison  Wells?"  present 
ly  asked  one  of  the  cousins.  They  weren't 
much  impressed  by  the  name,  not  having 
the  advantage  of  living  in  New  York. 
"Why,  we  know  her!  We  all  became  great 
friends  in  Florence  last  winter.  She  said 
she  didn't  know  you,  dear,  but  she  is  a  great 
admirer  of  Fred's  work  and  wants  us  to 
bring  you  to  call." 

"My  wife  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort!" 
snorted  Fred.  Again  the  manner,  quite 
magnificent. 

"Very  kind,  but  I  really  couldn't  think 
of  it,"  Molly  began,  then  stopped,  smiled 
as  an  idea  took  shape,  and  added:  :<Yes, 
I  will.  We'll  go  to-morrow!" 

V 

A  note,  by  special  delivery,  in  Irving's 
distinguished  hand,  was  brought  in  to 
Molly  at  the  luncheon-table  the  next  day. 
It  began  thus:  "We  have  just  discovered 
our  egregious  blunder  of  last  evening  and 
are  covered  with  confusion  this  morning. 
Can  you  ever  forgive  us  ?  Somehow,  we  got 

65 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

it  into  our  stupid  heads  that  your  dinnei 
was  next  Thursday — another  reason  for  our 
delay  in  replying.  During  the  season  so 
many  invitations  are  sent  out  so  long  in 
advance,  you  know.  .  .  ." 

"Mrs.  Wells's,  for  instance,"  commented 
Molly,  reading  aloud  to  the  cousins.  "But 
it's  dear  of  him  to  teach  me  how  to  behave, 
all  the  same." 

"...  That  seems  to  be  the  only  way 
I  can  account  for  marking  your  dinner 
a  week  late  on  my  engagement  calendar 
by  my  dressing-table.  I  am  always  doing 
these  unaccountable  things — I  don't  know 
why.  ..." 

"Artistic  temperament,"  suggested  one 
of  the  cousins. 

"It's  a  bad  habit,"  said  Molly,  with  a 
reflective  glow  in  her  eyes;  "it  ought  to  be 
broken.  Perhaps  we  can  help  him  break 
it." 

Now,  it  is  always  well  to  be  circumstantial 
in  these  matters,  and  when  a  bachelor  plants 
his  evidence  in  his  bedroom  it  can  hardly 
be  questioned.  But  it  isn't  safe  to  protest 

66 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

too  much.  Irving  was  a  fiction  writer  and 
loved  his  work.  His  graceful  note  went  on 
at  some  length  to  express  how  sincerely 
they  hoped  for  "  another  chance  sometime 
to  redeem  ourselves." 

"Who  knows?"  said  Molly,  smiling; 
"they  may  get  it." 

Earlier  in  the  day,  when  the  cousins 
notified  Mrs.  Wells  by  telephone  that  they 
were  in  town,  she  interrupted  them  with  an 
expression  of  pleasure  and  proceeded  at 
once  to  ask  if  she  might  not  come  to  see 
them  and  their  hostess  that  very  afternoon, 
as  she  had  promised  to  go  on  the  morrow 
to  the  country  for  a  few  days.  It  was  so 
arranged.  She  came. 

Though  the  grand  ladies  in  Irving' s  books 
were  not  much  given  to  taking  tea  in  houses 
above  the  end  of  the  Park,  this  one  did  not 
seem  to  feel  very  badly  about  it,  especially 
as  the  tea  was  good  and  the  house  so  charm 
ing.  "How  did  you  ever  find  it — how  did 
you  think  of  it  ?"  she  asked  Molly,  admiring 
her  independence  as  well  as  her  violets. 
Mrs.  Wells  had  a  good  many  violets  but  not 

67 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

much  scope  for  independence  in  her  life. 
These  young  people  interested  her. 

Despite  Molly's  prejudices  against  hor 
net  solely  due  to  Irving' s  innocent  prattle 
— the  great  Mrs.  Wells  proved  a  most  en 
gaging  person,  not  merely  an  impressive 
personage.  Despite  the  blare  of  newspaper 
fame  arid  even  the  crime  of  being  a  social 
leader,  she  had  the  low  voice  and  simple 
manners  of  several  generations  of  breeding 
— in  short,  she  was  quite  as  nice  a  little 
thing  as  Molly  herself.  It  sometimes  happens 
so,  even  in  New  York,  regrettable  as  it  is  to 
acknowledge  it.  To  tell  the  truth,  she  was 
a  shy  little  thing,  though  few  of  the  many 
who  examined  her  through  their  glasses  at 
the  opera  would  suspect  it,  seeing  her  se 
renely  relaxed  there  in  her  box,  covered 
(more  or  less)  with  expensiveness,  against  a 
background  of  smiling  admirers. 

Now,  Molly  was  not  only  a  nice  little 
thing,  but  a  proud  little  thing,  and  hereto 
fore  she  had  never  permitted  any  one  to 
"take  her  up."  This  time,  however,  she 
was  not  only  willing,  but  desirous.  Yet 

68 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

she  quietly  played  up  her  cousins  and  said 
nothing  whatever  about  her  more  "impor 
tant"  family  connections — the  mildest  form 
of  snobbishness,  but  the  commonest.  Molly 
could  be  very  charming  when  she  thought 
about  it.  She  thought  about  it  now  be 
cause  she  was  deliberately  playing  a  game, 
and  meant  to  have  some  fun  out  of  it.  So 
perhaps  Irving  would  have  been  more  sur 
prised  than  Molly  was  to  hear  his  friend, 
"Mrs.  Harry,"  say,  upon  rising  to  go:  "I 
hope  you  can  spare  me  an  evening  before 
your  cousins  leave.  Mr.  Wells  must  see 
them,  and  I'd  like  so  to  know  your  husband. 
I  know  his  work." 

"How  kind  of  you!"  said  Molly,  quite  as 
if  she  had  not  expected  something  of  the 
sort,  the  brazen  little  climber.  "We  have 
next  Thursday  free." 

"Why  Thursday?"  wondered  the  cous 
ins,  who  knew  of  several  other  unfilled 
dates. 

"Let  me  see — that's  opera  night.  But 
would  you  mind  an  early  dinner  and  hurry 
ing  off  to  hear  Farrar  afterward  ?" 

69 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

None  of  the  three  girls  minded,  it  seemed, 
and  the  engagement  was  made.  "Now,  do 
suggest  some  nice  men  to  meet  your  cousins 
—men  they  would  really  like  to  have." 

"Dear  me!  This  will  make  it  still  more 
effective,"  thought  Molly  as  she  replied  in 
nocently:  "Well,  there's  Irving  Lawton; 
he  comes  from  the  same  part  of  Ohio. 
And  I'm  sure  they'd  love  to  know  his  great 
friend,  Horace  Beck — wouldn't  you,  dear?" 
And  she  pinched  the  shoulder  of  the  cousin 
about  whom  her  arm  rested. 

"Ever  so  much,"  said  that  cousin,  while 
the  other  one  smiled  vaguely. 

Only  for  a  fraction  of  a  second  did  Mrs. 
Wells  hesitate.  Perhaps  she  was  tiring  of  the 
facetious  youngsters.  Perhaps  she  would  tire 
of  Molly  soon;  she  was  a  keen  enthusiast, 
and  therefore  a  fickle  faddist.  Then  she 
answered  graciously :  "  I'll  ask  them  at  once." 

Molly  stepped  out  to  the  door  with  her 
caller — a  thing  never  done  in  Irving's  stories. 
"But  please  don't  let  them  know  we  are  to 
be  there,"  she  whispered,  smiling  myste 
riously.  "  I  want  to  give  them  a  surprise.' 

70 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Mrs.  Wells  scented  a  situation.  "I  won't 
tell."  She  liked  situations.  "An  old  flame, 
I  suppose,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  wonder 
which  cousin  it  is,"  and  away  she  sped, 
thinking  of  other  things. 

Then,  before  Mrs.  Wells's  car  was  out  of 
sight,  Molly  ran  to  the  telephone  and  called 
for  the  bachelors.  It  was  quite  exciting. 
She  knew  how  necessary  to  her  plan  it  was 
to  get  word  to  them  ahead  of  Mrs.  Wells. 
Good!  They  had  just  come  in.  "  I  received 
your  nice  note,"  she  said.  "Yes,  we  under 
stood  perfectly,  and  we  want  you  to  come 
next  Thursday,  as  you  originally  planned. 
.  .  .  Not  at  all.  It  will  give  us  such  pleas 
ure  to  have  you  come  to  our  house  at  last." 

"Because,"  she  added  to  herself,  "we'll 
be  at  Mrs.  Wells's  house." 

VI 

This  time  the  martyrs  stuck  to  their 
sacrifice,  although  it  required  real  nobility 
to  turn  down  the  opera — and  in  Mrs.  Wells's 
box,  of  all  boxes !  "  It's  *  Tosca/  too,"  com 
plained  Irving.  "I've  never  heard  Ger= 

71 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

aldine  in  it."     Some  one  had  been  remiss. 
He  had  never  heard  Geraldine  in  it. 

"  Let's  excuse  ourselves  early,  as  soon 
as  we've  smoked,"  said  Horace,  "and  rush 
down  in  the  subway  in  time  for  the  last  act 
—and  supper.  Up  there  in  the  wilds  they 
probably  go  to  bed  at  ten,  anyway." 

"In  any  case  they  can  hardly  object 
when  we  tell  them  what  we  have  thrown 
over  for  their  sakes,"  put  in  Irving  with 
some  satisfaction. 

Getting  up  to  the  wilds  was  the  problem. 
It  was  a  frightfully  expensive  distance  for 
a  cab,  especially  when  it  was  all  for  others' 
pleasure,  not  their  own;  and  Horace's  build 
did  not  go  well  in  crowded  cars.  But  where 
there's  a  will  there's  a  way.  Irving  got  one 
of  his  inspirations: 

"We  haven't  had  a  long,  hard  walk  for 
days.  We  need  one.  It  will  do  us  good 
and  put  us  in  shape  to  eat  anything."  They 
took  excellent  care  of  their  bodies,  these 
two,  and  that's  right. 

"But  our  evening  clothes?"  asked  prac 
tical  Horace. 

72 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"Oh,  that's  so!"  acknowledged  Irving. 
"We'd  have  to  start  up  the  Avenue  before 
six  o'clock."  And  he  blushed  modestly. 

"Not  merely  that,"  rejoined  grosser  Hor 
ace,  "but  after  a  hard  walk  I've  got  to  have 
a  bath  and  a  complete  change."  That 
was  all  too  true  of  Horace. 

But  just  then  came  another  happy  in 
spiration: 

"Send  a  bag  with  our  things  on  ahead  by 
Tommy,  the  hall-boy!  Bathe  and  change  at 
Fred's.  No,  they  won't  mind — they'll  think 
it  interesting.  That's  the  way  to  work  it!" 

Thus  the  problem  was  faced,  studied,  and 
solved;  and  by  the  time  they  swung  into 
the  home-stretch  of  their  long  tramp  the 
two  jolly  bachelors  were  in  that  genial  state 
of  physical  well-being  where  a  good  man 
with  a  free  conscience  feels  kindly  disposed 
toward  all  his  fellow-men,  and  even  toward 
strenuous  females. 

"Good  old  Fred — I  can  remember  a 
time  when  he  knew  how  to  order  a  dinner," 
said  Irving  pleasantly;  "let  us  pray  he 
hasn't  forgotten — hey,  what?" 

73 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Let  us  pray  there's  enough,  whatever 
she  gives  us — hey,  what?"  rejoined  hun 
gry  Horace,  and  with  a  sigh  of  complete 
content  he  added:  "There's  the  house  at 
last!" 

"It  can't  be,"  said  Irving  as  they  drew 
near;  "it's  all  dark." 

"It  must  be,"  answered  Horace;  "it's 
the  only  stone  house  in  sight." 

Somewhat  perturbed  they  mounted  the 
steps,  they  rang  the  bell. 

There  was  no  response. 

They  rang  again.     Same  result. 

It  was  beginning  to  look  serious.  "What 
does  this  mean?"  asked  Horace,  mopping 
his  brow. 

"Let's  investigate,"  answered  Irving  ner 
vously.  They  went  around  to  the  rear. 
There  were  no  lights.  They  tried  the  door. 
Locked. 

"Are  you  sure  about  the  date?"  asked 
Irving. 

"  Positive,"  answered  Horace.  "  She  said 
'Next  Thursday,'  the  very  day  you  men 
tioned  in  that  jolly  you  wrote  her." 

74 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

There  was  a  pause.  They  looked  at 
each  other,  a  great  fear  entering  their  midst. 
Horace  voiced  it  huskily:  "Irving,  there's 
no  dinner  here  to-night!" 

And  Irving  spoke:  "Here  we  are — miles 
from  a  decent  restaurant!  Horace,  I  ate 
a  light  luncheon  to-day — to  feel  fit  for  ex 


ercise." 


"So  did  I,"  echoed  Horace  as  from  a  vast 
emptiness. 

It  was  a  tragic  moment. 

They  gazed  at  each  other  like  ship 
wrecked  mariners.  Like  mariners  they  now 
began  to  swear:  "A  nice  way  to  treat  us. 
.  .  .  Away  up  here  and  then  forget  all  about 
it!"  But  this  was  of  no  avail.  It  only 
sapped  their  strength.  In  emergencies  one 
must  think,  one  must  act. 

"Well,  let's  go  and  find  a  restaurant  of 
some  kind,"  sighed  Horace,  starting  off 
wearily. 

"Then  go  and  join  Mrs.  Harry's  crowd," 
added  Irving,  taking  hope. 

"Lord!  but  our  evening  clothes!"  Hor 
ace  stopped. 

75 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

So  did  Irving.  "We've  simply  got  to  get 
them,"  he  whispered  desperately. 

"But  how— how?" 

"How!  Why,  this  way,"  cried  Irving 
resolutely,  and  he  tried  the  kitchen  window. 
*  These  old-fashioned  houses  are  always 
easy."  Hope  was  returning. 

"  Good ! "  cried  Horace  as  the  sash  went  up. 
Maybe  we  can  find  something  to  eat,  too." 

"Help  me  up,"  commanded  Irving  like 
a  born  leader. 

The  short  one  got  down  on  his  hands  and 
knees.  The  long  one  was  standing  upon 
his  companion's  sturdy  back,  when  a 
policeman's  voice  interrupted  them:  "Gee, 
but  you've  got  a  nerve" —covering  them 
with  his  revolver — "to  try  to  put  that  across 
this  time  o'  night.  Don't  move,"  he  added, 
blowing  his  whistle  for  help  in  case  it  might 
be  needed. 

Irving  threw  up  his  hands,  that  being 
the  way  they  did  in  the  stories  some  of  his 
literary  brethren  wrote  about  Western  life. 
Horace  knew  he  could  never  make  a  mis 
take  in  following  Irving's  example.  But  at 

76 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

present  it  was  impossible.     Irving  was  still 
upon  his  back. 

"This  is  very  awkward,"  said  the  fiction 
writer. 

"Very,"  groaned  Horace. 

"Sure,"  said  the  policeman. 

"We  can  explain,"  said  Irving. 

"You  betcher  can,"  said  the  policeman. 
He  was  feeling  their  pockets  for  firearms, 
while  his  own  swung  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  guilty  pair  unpleasantly.  "Ama- 
chures,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Get  down," 
he  commanded.  "Come  on,"  he  ordered; 
"you  two  walk  ahead — oh,  putcher  hands 
down — they'll  get  tired.  Now  turn  to  the 
left.  You  can  explain  all  you  want  to  the 
sergeant." 

"This  is  an  outrage!"  cried  Horace  as 
a  couple  of  other  policemen  joined  them 
unexcitedly  at  the  corner. 

"Who  piped  yous  that  the  help  was  out  ?" 
asked  their  original  captor. 

"We  are  friends  of  the  Carrolls,"  said 
Horace  with  dignity.  "We  were  invited 
to  dine  at  their  house,  but— 

77 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

"You  look  like  it,"  replied  another  po 
liceman.  Horace  had  been  exercising  vio 
lently. 

"Do  we  look  like  burglars?"  asked 
Irving  in  his  most  distinguished  manner. 

"More  like  a  barber,  with  that  Caruso 
mustache,"  said  the  third  policeman,  and 
the  others  seemed  to  like  his  low  wit. 

"Mr.  Carroll  himself  will  prove  our 
identity,"  put  in  Horace  scornfully. 

"But  where  are  we  going  to  find  him?" 
interrupted  Irving  in  a  whisper.  "We're 
not  going  to  stay  in  a  police  station  all  the 
evening!" 

But  it  seemed  so.  The  first  three  or 
four  friends  they  wildly  called  by  telephone 
were,  like  dear  old  dub  Fred,  inconsider 
ately — comfortably,  no  doubt — dining  out. 

"Might  one  send  a  messenger  to  Mr.  H. 
Harrison  Wells?"  asked  Irving  icily  of 
the  sergeant. 

The  officer  did  not  look  up.  He  merely 
took  out  his  cigar  and  spat.  "Send  one  to 
the  President  of  the  United  States,  if  you 

like — isn't  he  a  friend  of  yours,  too  ?" 

78 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"We  can  count  upon  reaching  Harry 
at  the  opera/'  Irving  hastily  explained  to 
Horace. 

They  sent  the  message.  They  waited 
long  for  the  answer.  They  became  im 
patient. 

"Let's  try  Harry  on  the  'phone.  I  think 
there's  one  in  the  directors'  room  at  the 
opera.  .  .  ." 

At  last: 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Wells  ?  This  is  Irving 
Lawton." 

A  feminine  voice  replied:  "Mr.  Wells 
has  gone  with  a  friend  to  get  you  out  of 
your  little  difficulty."  For  the  messenger 
had  arrived  during  the  previous  act,  but 
Harry  Wells  said,  laughing,  when  Molly  en 
tertainingly  explained  the  situation,  that  he 
and  Carroll  would  wait  until  the  intermis 
sion  before  flying  to  the  rescue. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Wells!"  Irving  at 
the  telephone  proceeded  with  smiling  grace; 
"awfully  good  of  your  husband — so  morti 
fying.  Aw,  aw,  but  it  serves  us  jolly  well 
right  for  not  cutting  this  stupid  engagement 

79 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

and  accepting  your  delightful  invitation,  as> 

to  tell  the  truth,  we  did  last  week " 

"This  is  not  Mrs.  Wells;  this  is  Mrs. 
Carroll."  Then,  in  the  sweet,  innocent 
tones  of  "a  nice  little  thing,"  Molly  went  on: 
"We  have  just  discovered  our  egregious 
blunder  and  we  are  covered  with  confusion. 
Somehow,  we  got  it  into  our  stupid  heads 
that  you  were  to  come  next  Thursday.  It 
is  so  written  on  the  calendar  by  my  dressing- 
table.  During  the  season  invitations  are 
sent  out  so  long  in  advance,  you  know.  I 
am  always  doing  these  unaccountable  things 
— I  don't  know  why."  Then,  being  in 
terrupted  by  the  uncontrolled  laughter  of 
Mrs.  Wells  and  the  cousins — all  of  them 
near  enough  to  be  heard  and  recognized 
by  Irving  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire — 
Molly  hung  up  the  receiver  and  the  diners- 
out  knew  that  the  party  had  returned  to 
the  box  to  hear  the  last  act. 


80 


Ill 


FREDERIC  CARROLL,  MONOGA 
MIST 

SCENES :  A  modern  woman's  club  (both  suffrage  and  anti); 
an  artist's  studio;  a  wife's  heart;  her  husband's;  the 
other  woman's,  and  so  on,  concluding  with  a  tableau  in 
the  North  Woods. 

("THE  OTHER  WOMAN" — WHO  is  NOT  VERY  "UNPLEAS 
ANT"  — BRILLIANTLY  ILLUMINATES  CERTAIN  UNFORESEEN 
OBSTACLES  IN  THE  PRETTY  PATH  OF  ONE  ANXIOUS  TO  BE 
"JUST  AN  OLD-FASHIONED  WIFE,"  AND  YET  COMPELLED  TO 
LIVE  IN  NEW-FASHIONED  CONDITIONS.  THEN  WE  MAY 
WATCH  THE  WORKING  OUT  OF  AN  OPTIMISTIC  INTENTION  TO 
MAKE  A  REAL  UNION  OUT  OF  A  MERE  MARRIAGE.) 

I 

THE  beautiful  young  celebrity  who  had 
come,  appropriately  adorned,  to  deliver  her 
message  concerning  "The  Economic  Inde 
pendence  of  Woman"  to  this  select  gather 
ing  of  her  fellow  slaves,  also  more  or  less 
expensively  protected  from  the  cold,  knew 
that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  shock  her 
present  audience  into  a  serious  considera- 

81 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

tion  of  the  subject,  but  she  believed  that  she 
could  manage  it. 

It  seems  that  a  great  many  members  of 
the  club  were  keen  about  the  economic  in 
dependence  of  woman  this  morning  while 
their  husbands  were  down  town  at  work, 
for  numerous  adequately  equipped  vehicles 
might  have  been  seen  blocking  the  street 
without  while  Muriel  Vincent  was  being  in 
troduced  within.  She  arose,  slender  and 
very  tall,  quite  self-possessed  (for  a  slave) 
and  bowed  with  an  engaging  smile  of  amuse 
ment,  of  superiority.  There  was  a  flatter 
ing  silence.  The  variously  becoming  formal 
gardens  stopped  fluttering,  the  ornitholog 
ical  exhibits  became  as  stationary  as  if  un 
der  glass  cases  at  stuffy  museums  instead 
of  resting  appropriately  upon  complicated 
coils  of  hair  growing  upon  or  belonging  to 
delicately  scented  ladies  interested  in  eco 
nomic  independence.  Then  in  a  delicately 
modulated  voice,  with  a  fastidiously  languid 
manner,  as  if  not  much  impressed  with  what 
she  had  to  say,  Muriel  began: 

"The  difference  between  a  wife  and  a 

82 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

mistress  is  that  a  mistress  is  supported  by 
a  man  who  loves  her,  and  a  wife  by  one 
who  does  not.  And  that  one  of  these  wom 
en  is  respected  for  what  she  does,  and  the 
other  is  despised.  We  who  are  women  have 
decreed  which  is  which.  Well,  we  ought  to 
know!" 

Among  the  many  who  had  come  to  have 
their  minds  improved,  not  having  any  more 
serious  use  for  them  until  after  luncheon, 
some  merely  smiled  appreciatively  at  the 
naivete  of  the  epigram,  at  the  captivating 
manner  with  which  the  charming  young  ce 
lebrity  emitted  it.  Otherwise  they  were  not 
much  concerned,  being  so  thoroughly  ac 
customed  to  having  their  minds  improved. 
Some  who  were  not  so  advanced,  but 
wanted  to  be  and  did  not  know  just  how, 
smiled  still  more  appreciatively.  Others 
looked  on  with  vague,  simpering,  doll-like 
faces,  not  understanding  nor  caring  so  long 
as  they  were  seen  there  with  the  rest.  A 
small  sprinkling  were  shocked,  but  they 
were  not  advanced  at  all,  except  in  years. 

One  there  was  who  neither  smiled  nor 
83 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

raised  her  eyebrows  nor  missed  the  point, 
but  listened  attentively,  not  altogether  com 
fortably,  gasping  a  little,  but  maintaining  a 
detached,  twinkling  interest.  She  was  a 
new  member,  young,  blithe,  cheerful — "a 
cunning  little  thing,"  as  she  was  pronounced 
by  older  members,  "a  little  thoroughbred" 
by  Mrs.  H.  Harrison  Wells,  who  had  pro 
posed  her  for  membership.  Her  name  was 
Molly,  and  she  was  not  used  to  hearing 
things  of  this  sort  (as  yet).  But  she  was 
interested,  and,  like  the  women  under  half 
the  big  hats  in  the  room,  she  was  thinking 
about  the  man  she  had  married,  as  women 
always  do,  Muriel  knew,  when  marriage  was 
discussed — or  else  about  the  men  they  might 
have  married.  That  is  what  the  other  half 
of  the  room  was  thinking  about.  Perhaps 
that  is  why  Muriel  allowed  a  pause. 

"There  are  other  differences,"  the  lect 
urer  admitted  in  the  same  carelessly  grace 
ful  manner  of  letting  her  truths  drop,  like 
pearls,  from  an  abundant  store.  "A  mis 
tress,  if  she  is  not  loved  or  supported  to  her 
satisfaction,  can  leave  her  employer  for  a 

84 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

better  position  without  notice.  Her  lover 
knows  it.  A  wife  cannot  leave  without  con 
siderable  notice — and  her  husband  knows 
that.  On  the  other  hand,  a  mistress  is  com 
pelled  to  bestir  herself,  to  be  alive,  alert,  to 
employ  her  God-given  faculties — for  she 
must  please  to  live;  whereas  a  wife  need 
not.  She  can  live  without  pleasing.  She 
has  her  legal  'rights/  Hence  she  degener 
ates,  becomes  fat  and  stupid 

("I'm  not  fat,"  thought  Molly;  "I'm 
not  stupid.") 

" — or  else  she  cultivates  slenderness  and 
frivolity,  and  corrupts  the  ideals  if  not  the 
morals  of  nice  young  men,  who  learn  to 
despise  her  and  the  sex  they  would  like  to 


revere." 


This  also  missed  Molly,  as  it  happened, 
though  she  knew  a  woman  it  hit,  in  the 
same  row. 

Some  of  them  considered  this  sheer  im 
pudence,  coming  from  Muriel,  for  they 
knew  her.  "She's  a  disappointed  woman," 
thought  others,  "that's  why  she  is  so  bitter." 
Perhaps  it  was  true.  Some  people,  especial- 

85 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ly  women,  it  is  said,  never  think  about  any 
thing  they  haven't  felt.  Why  should  they  ? 
What  would  it  profit  them  ?  Well,  at  any 
rate,  there  was  a  spiteful  comfort  in  this  view 
of  Muriel's  views  for  certain  of  these  ladies, 
who  considered  themselves  "  idealists, "  be 
cause  they  believed  what  they  knew  was 
not  true  and  claimed  credit  for  it.  So,  not 
liking  what  she  made  them  think  about  their 
own  marriages,  they  now  began  thinking 
about  hers,  and  liked  that  better — the  usual 
way  in  such  discussions. 

"Dear  me!"  smiled  those  happily  mar 
ried,  "how  little  she  really  knows  about  it!" 
That  was  undoubtedly  true.  Muriel  saw 
happy  marriages  so  seldom  that  she  hardly 
recognized  them  any  longer  when  she  passed 
them. 

"A  half-dozen  children  would  stop  all 
this  nonsense,"  thought  one  of  the  older 
ladies,  fanning  vigorously.  That  might  be 
true  too.  The  "old-fashioned  wife"  seldom 
had  time  to  think.  And  she  had  even 
less  opportunity  to  speak — what  she  really 

thought.    Were  they  always  sweet  thoughts  ? 

86 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

But  Muriel  only  smiled  with  amusement 
and  went  on  with  her  lecture.  She  had 
them  all  listening  attentively  now — and  that 
was  what  she  wanted.  "  Pique  interest  with 
your  opening  sentence.  Arouse  curiosity 
with  your  second,"  was  one  of  Muriel's 
rules.  She  was  a  writer  lady.  She  wrote 
about  sex  and  society.  Some  of  her  present 
audience  had  laughed  at  her  books,  others 
had  cried  over  them,  but  all  had  read  them. 

It  is  true  that  she  had  tried  the  career 
which  most  of  them  were  practising,  more 
or  less  successfully — in  fact,  she  had  tried  it 
twice,  to  give  it  a  thorough  test.  She  did 
not  think  much  of  it.  It  had  failed  both 
times,  owing,  perhaps,  to  the  insolvency  of 
her  partner.  So  she  had  abandoned  it  for 
the  present  and  riddled  it  with  her  pen  in 
stead.  In  this  career  she  was  not  only 
free  economically,  but  free  also  to  wallow  in 
the  luxury  of  self-expression.  Few  of  her 
hearers  were  so  blessed.  They  had  hus 
bands  they  feared  or  respected,  or  even 
loved.  They  had  children  to  consider,  or 
positions  they  valued.  So  they  took  it  out 

87 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

in  reading  books  occasionally,  and  attended 
lectures  like  this,  thus  indulging  in  the  lux 
ury  of  self-expression  vicariously,  quite  as 
they  took  massage  instead  of  exercise  in 
some  cases;  and  wrote  checks  instead  of 
working  in  the  East  Side,  which  was  so  ill- 
smelling. 

Molly  Carroll  had  no  children,  no  posi 
tion  to  speak  of,  and  but  little  fear  of  pub 
lic  opinion.  To  be  sure,  she  had  a  husband 
she  adored,  but  suppose  he  no  longer  adored 
her  ?  Suppose  he  wanted  to  but  couldn't ? 
.  .  .  Well,  the  new  member's  mind  was  open 
for  improvement. 

The  lecturer  was  q-uoting  the  United  States 
census  reports  showing  that  one  out  of  every 
twelve  marriages  ends  in  divorce— "And 
God  only  knows,"  she  added,  "how  many 
of  the  other  eleven  remain  in  the  ghastlier 
state  of  the  undivorced  merely  through  fear, 
poverty,  expediency,  or  sheer  kindness." 
(It  made  the  idealists  squirm,  and  the  old 
ladies  fan  furiously.  Facts  often  do.  They 
should  be  suppressed  when  they  are  "un 
pleasant.")  "But,  after  all,  why  should  the 

88 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

modern  marriage  turn  out  differently?" 
Muriel  proceeded,  "especially  the  American 
marriage.  You  belong  to  the  leisure  class, 
your  husbands  to  the  working  class.  Mesal 
liances  are  seldom  successful.  You  allow 
your  husbands  to  inflict  the  curse  of  idleness 
upon  you,  making  drones  of  you  because  it 
is  no  longer  necessary  for  you  to  be  drudges; 
toiling  that  you  may  play — bridge,  char 
ity,  intellectuality  and  other  polite  games — 
toiling  harder  that  you  may  play  more  lux 
uriously.  This  is  not  altogether  the  snob 
bery  of  a  nation  of  parvenus;  it  is  not  al 
together  due  to  your  own  inherent  ideals, 
but  to  the  adventitious  ones  imposed  upon 
you  by  your  well-meaning  providers.  They 
think  it  chivalry — and  you  let  them  think 
so.  It  is  not  their  fault;  they  are  mere 
thoughtless  boys — they  have  no  time  to 
think.  But  you  have.  Perhaps  you  don't 
like  to.  Well,  the  time  has  come  when  you 
must.  For  see  the  result:  They  are  crea 
tive  and  grow;  you  are  consumers  and  de 
generate.  They  are  productive;  you  are 

seldom  even  reproductive.     They  mature  as 

89 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

men ;  you  stagnate  as  overgrown,  overdressed 
girls,  fulfilling  no  more  useful  function  than 
the  sandwich-man  on  the  street — walking 
advertisements  of  your  employer's  solvency. 
You  are  not  really  persons  at  all,  but  things, 
reflexes  of  man's  semi-barbaric  ideals,  or 
namental  slaves,  vampires,  blights,  destroy 
ers  of  what  you  profess  to  love  and  prom 
ise  to  obey,  hindering  and  hampering  by 
disillusionment  and  expense  the  individual 
growth  as  well  as  the  social  usefulness  of 
those  whom  you  have  the  glorious  privilege 
of  serving  and  guiding  as  helpmeets  and 
life  partners." 

Muriel's  voice  had  risen  a  little.  She 
paused  now  and  added  quietly,  "And  yet 
you  wonder  why  he  does  not  love  you  as  he 
promised  at  the  altar!  That  promise  which 
is  supposed  to  bind  you  together  is  the 
very  thing  that  puts  you  asunder.  Love 
may  be  divine,  but  marriage,  as  it  is  prac 
tised  and  preached,  is  not  even  human. 
It  is  inhuman." 

Molly's  frank  brown  eyes  which  had  been 
opening  and  closing  rapidly  now  sparkled 

90 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

with  mirth.  Muriel  had  overshot  her  mark. 
The  art  of  understatement  had  been  for 
gotten  in  her  vehemence,  thus  affording 
certain  of  her  hearers  a  sort  of  comic  re 
lief.  It  was  as  when  their  husbands  were 
attacked  in  the  muck-raking  magazines. 
Those  stalwart  captains  of  industry  could 
usually  find  some  misstatement  or  overstate 
ment  which  gave  them  a  welcome  excuse  for 
laughing  off  all  the  rest  as  "grossly  exag 
gerated."  But  though  Molly  was  glad  to 
laugh,  and  could  find  much,  for  her  comfort, 
that  was  specious  in  Muriel's  argument,  the 
"unpleasant"  fact  remained  that  she  and 
her  husband  were  growing  farther  apart 
every  day,  and  that  while  Fred  worked  hard 
for  money,  her  only  serious  occupation  was 
spending  it.  There  seemed  the  less  excuse 
in  her  case  because  there  was  so  little  to 
spend  and  because  her  husband  needed  no 
walking  advertisement  of  his  money-getting 
ability,  not  being  in  a  money-getting  occu 
pation.  He  was  a  painter,  and  the  measure 
of  an  artist's  success  is  not  supposed  to  be 
the  amount  of  money  he  makes.  "Dear 

91 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

me,"  thought  Molly,  twinkling,  "I'm  not 
even  a  sandwich-woman!"  And  so  she 
smiled  again  and  missed  the  next  five 
minutes  of  Muriel. 

This  view  of  marriage  was  not  exactly 
the  one  Molly  had  been  brought  up  with — 
nor  Fred  either,  for  that  matter.  But  if 
we  give  our  offspring  more  or  less  practical 
education  for  every  relation  in  life  except 
the  most  important  and  practical  of  all,  we 
must  not  be  surprised  if  they  turn  after  a 
while  for  instruction  to  such  accessible  sources 
of  knowledge  as  novels  and  lady  lecturers. 
For  the  question  sometimes  becomes  press 
ing  and  important.  Molly  had  been  trained 
from  birth  for  just  one  thing,  and  that  was 
to  be  a  bride.  She  had  made  a  great  success 
at  that,  but  she  was  no  longer  a  bride. 
She  was  now  a  wife,  and  she  knew  as  little 
about  her  occupation  as  about  being  a 
mother.  Not  being  a  mother,  she  had  con 
siderable  time  to  study  her  present  occu 
pation. 

She  had  been  led  to  believe  that  "if  you 

find  the  right  one,"  and  if  "you  really  love 

92 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

each  other/'  then  all  the  rest  followed  as 
naturally  and  merrily  as  a  marriage  bell. 
She  had  found  the  right  one.  So  had  Fred. 
Theirs  was  notably  a  love  match.  In  short, 
they  believed  that  they  would  get  along  to 
gether  to  the  end,  because  they  couldn't  get 
along  apart  at  the  beginning.  They  had 
wanted  each  other  tremendously,  and  so 
when  they  got  each  other  completely,  they 
thought  they  would  never  want  anything 
else.  But  this,  it  appears,  was  a  mistake. 

"The  one  touch  needed,"  Muriel  was 
now  saying,  "to  drag  this  down  from  the 
comparative  dignity  of  comedy  to  the  base 
ness  of  vulgar  farce  is  conscientiously  sup 
plied  by  its  victims:  While  utterly  apart 
they  pretend  to  be  together  for  fear  the 
world  will  see  them  honestly  acknowledg 
ing  what  the  world  already  knows — namely, 
that  one  or  the  other  or  both  of  them  are 
heartily  tired  of  it  and  wish  that  it  had  never 
happened." 

(Molly  was  biting  her  lip.  She  did  not 
believe  that  any  one  knew  that  Fred  was 
tired  of  it — as  yet.) 

93 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"But  when  you  hold  him  so  close  to  the 
grindstone  by  day  and  the  hearth-stone  by 
night,  allowing  him  to  see  no  other  woman 
except  in  your  disquieting  presence— 

(Molly  dropped  her  eyes,  but  no  one  no 
ticed  her.) 

— "when  you  make  a  slave  of  him  down 
town  and  a  page  of  him  up  town,  you  must 
not  be  surprised  that  sheer  weariness  grows 
into  irritation  and  irritation  into  despera 
tion,  with  the  final  result  that  while  he  ap 
pears  with  you  in  public  he  disappears  with 
out  you  in  private." 

(Molly  looked  up.  "Fred  doesn't  do 
that!"  she  rejoiced,  but  again  she  consid 
ered  her  calling,  missing  some  of  the  speak 
er's  views  upon  it.  .  .  .) 

"Whatever  may  be  the  new  marriage/' 
Muriel  went  on,  for  she  seemed  inclined 
to  admit  that  the  institution  had  come  to 
stay,  in  some  form  or  other,  "men  and 
women  will  never  get  together  on  a  sane 
and  lasting  basis  of  mutual  interest,  under 
standing,  and  respect,  as  life  partners,  until 
women  become  economic  entities — as  few 

94 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

of  you  here  are,  or  else  you  could  not  waste 
this  valuable  portion  of  the  working  day 
in  hearing  me  earn  my  fee." 

("She  must  be  a  very  ordinary  person!" 
thought  Molly,  who  was  "well  bred.") 

"In  short,  there  can  be  no  real  marriage 
worthy  of  the  name  and  a  help  to  civiliza 
tion,  save  on  a  basis  of  political,  social,  and 
economic  equality.  We  have  given  the  ex 
periment  of  making  men  and  women  as 
different  as  possible  a  fair  trial.  We  have 
finally  differentiated  them  more  than  the 
male  and  female  of  any  branch  of  the 
vertebrate  kingdom.  It  is  lovely  for  love- 
making  but  miserable  for  marriage.  Sup 
pose  we  try  the  opposite  experiment,  of 
making  them  at  least  as  much  alike  as  the 
male  and  female  Hottentot." 

("  But  I  don't  believe  in  woman  suffrage!" 
So  that  settled  this  argument  for  Molly 
and  some  of  the  other  old-fashioned  wives, 
who  therefore  refused  to  heed  Muriel's 
illuminating  distinction:) 

"Not  for  identity  of  function — that  is  con 
trary  to  nature;  but  equality  of  opportunity 

95 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

for  following  and  performing  the  traditional 
feminine  share  of  the  work  of  the  world — 
which  is  according  to  nature,  and  is  accorded 
all  natural  animals — even  the  highest,  until 
man's  new-fashioned  improvements  remove 
woman's  old-fashioned  opportunities  from 
the  home;  where,  nevertheless,  man's  un 
improved  sex  ideals  would  keep  woman  se 
curely  chained  to  a  soft,  silken  throne  from 
which  she  can  neither  descend  nor  ascend. 
"For  man's  sake  as  much  as  for  wom 
an's,"  she  concluded,  "must  this  silly, 
pretty,  paralyzing  ideal  of  sweet  feminine 
futility  be  abandoned;  for  the  sake  of 
mothers  and  the  producers  of  men  who  are 
to  enter  a  practical  world  must  a  more 
practical  sphere  be  substituted  for  this  worn- 
out,  decivilizing,  nature-defying  throne  of 
impotence.  But,"  she  broke  in  abruptly 
with  her  audacious  though  rather  charming 
smile,  "it  is  merely  as  wives  that  I  address 
you  now.  You  cannot  retain  his  interest 
in  you  when  you  are  incapable  even  of  in 
telligent  interest  in  his  work,  which  is  dearer 
to  him  than  you  are,  as  it  ought  to  be  if  he 

96 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

is  a  man,  and  not  a  mere  bridegroom.  You 
cannot  command  his  respect  until  you  are 
entitled  to  your  own.  And  if  you  hope  to 
hold  him,  without  respect,  merely  by  the 
tricks  of  the  only  trade  most  of  you  have 
learned,  then  he  will  seek  a  new  bundle  of 
tricks  after  he  has  tried  and  tired  of  yours 
— with  the  result  which  one  beholds  to-day 
on  every  hand" — she  paused  and  swept  her 
audience  with  a  quiet  smile — "a  great 
many  attentive  eyes,  most  of  them  disillu 
sionized." 

And  now  as  the  speaker  bowed  and  re 
tired,  gathering  up  the  manuscript  of  her 
carefully  wrought  epigrams,  there  might 
have  been  observed  the  familiar  phenomenon 
of  exchanging  glances  and  non-committal 
smiles  from  under  the  wide-spreading  hats 
now  suddenly  in  fluttering  motion.  Every 
one  was  curious  to  see  how  every  one  else 
took  it  and  anxious  to  reserve  an  expression 
of  her  own  opinion  until  the  opinion  of  her 
fellows  had  been  expressed.  Consequently, 
except  for  a  few  who  were  quite  advanced, 
no  opinions  were  vouchsafed,  otherwise 

97 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

than  by  raised  eyebrows  and  indulgent 
smiles.  Most  of  them  did  not  like  it,  but 
they  could  not  answer  it.  Muriel  was  horrid. 
They  could  all  say  that.  She  was  "un 
pleasant."  They  had  come  to  be  massaged, 
and  now  were  scratched.  Muriel  was  a  cat. 

Molly,  when  it  came  her  turn  to  be  pre 
sented  to  the  distinguished  guest  of  honor, 
received  two  hands  and  a  more  personal 
glance  than  most  of  the  women  had  been 
favored  with. 

"Are  you  by  any  chance  the  wife  of 
Frederic  Carroll,  the  portrait  painter?" 
asked  Muriel  with  smiling  interest. 

"His  vampire,"  nodded  Molly,  looking 
with  amused,  mocking  interest  into  the 
brilliant  eyes,  slightly  pencilled,  searching 
hers.  "You  know  his  work?"  she  added, 
ignoring  all  that  had  been  said  about  the 
failure  of  wives  in  the  anticipated  zest  of 
hearing  her  husband's  success  acclaimed 
before  these  other  wives.  It  was  sweet  to 
hear  him  referred  to  as  "the  portrait  paint 
er."  Most  of  them  regarded  Molly  as  the 
"bright  little  wife"  of  "a  young  artist." 

08 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"He  hasn't  exhibited  much  of  late,  has 
he?"  asked  Muriel.  " But  I  used  to  know 
him  very  well — before  he  was  your  hus 
band." 

"It  must  have  been,"  said  little  Mrs. 
Carroll  demurely.  She  felt  the  usual  sensa 
tions  of  a  young  wife  confronted  by  a  wom 
an  who  had  once  known  her  husband 
"very  well." 

"No,"  she  added,  "he  hasn't  had  anything 
to  exhibit  of  late.  You  see,"  she  explained 
in  the  same  quiet,  amused  manner,  "he  has 
had  to  go  back  into  illustrating,  now  that 
he  has  a  destroyer  on  his  hands." 

Muriel  laughed  musically.  "Such  a  de 
lightful  destroyer,"  she  said  as  she  turned 
to  tell  the  next  wife  how  glad  she  was  to 
meet  her.  "Do  look  me  up,  Mrs.  Carroll," 
she  called  after  Molly.  But  Mrs.  Carroll 
pretended  not  to  hear  and  passed  on. 

And  now  having  improved  their  minds, 
the  other  variously  beautiful  and  expensive 
blights  went  on  with  life  where  they  had 
left  off  before  Muriel  had  told  them  what 
to  do  with  it;  perhaps  a  little  more  dis- 

99 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

satisfied  in  some  cases,  a  little  more  com 
placently  self-satisfied  in  others,  but  with 
no  definite  intention  of  modifying  the  lot  to 
which  fate  had  assigned  them. 

It  seemed  that  the  new  member,  however, 
had  come  to  a  parting  of  the  ways.  So  we 
shall  have  to  follow  her,  unfortunately,  in 
stead  of  those  who  glided  off  in  limousines — 
to  play  bridge  with  their  more  or  less  gen 
erous  providers'  earnings;  to  attend  Ibsen 
classes  or  their  babies;  to  go  to  hair-dress 
ers  or  to  men  friends  who  really  appreciated 
them;  to  study  political  science  or  to  render 
reports  upon  the  sanitary  conditions  of  the 
East  Side  calculated  to  shock  chivalric  polit 
ical  bosses  into  doing  something  contrary 
to  the  financial  interests  of  the  bosses'  boss 
es  (who  were  the  husbands  of  some  of 
these  helpmeets) ;  or  to  aid  the  women  shirt 
waist  strikers,  who  were  remiss  in  not  hav 
ing  acquired  enough  sweet,  feminine  indi 
rect  influence  of  their  own  while  acquiring 
an  honest  living  outside  of  woman's  only 
sphere. 


TOO 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS  ' 

II 

The  young  Carrolls  had  the  potential 
ities  of  a  very  good  partnership,  and  if  they 
had  not  yet  found  themselves,  it  was  not 
due  to  a  lack  of  orthodox  ideals.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  of  them. 

With  the  pleasurable  sense  of  "sacrific 
ing  a  career"  for  love,  Molly  had  thrown 
over  her  maiden  dreams  of  "  doing  some 
thing"  in  order  to  "be  something,"  a  com 
plete  wife.  That  was  the  irony  of  it,  she 
thought  now,  as  she  walked  home,  her  brain 
in  a  whirl.  She  remembered  the  beaming 
approbation  of  the  older  generation  when 
she  made  this  announcement.  Marriage 
was  the  only  career  they  believed  in  for 
women,  and  their  ideal  was  the  Old-Fash- 
ioned  Wife. 

But,  even  with  the  best  intentions,  it  is 
difficult  to  be  an  old-fashioned  wife  in  a 
new-fashioned  apartment.  There  must  have 
been  something  in  what  Mrs.  Vincent  said. 
The  methods  of  the  former  generation  sel 
dom  fit  the  conditions  of  the  present  gener- 

101 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

ation — no  wonder,  when  they  were  evolved 
from  the  conditions  of  the  former!  The 
older  generation  seldom  thinks  of  this,  and 
the  rising  generation  seldom  thinks  at  all. 
It  only  feels.  Hence  we  have  comedy,  some 
times  tragedy,  when  feelings  lead  them  into 
situations  requiring  thinking  to  get  them  out. 

Try  as  she  might,  Molly  could  not  make 
her  ordinary  housekeeping  consume  more 
than  an  hour  and  a  half  of  her  day.  To  be 
sure,  she  also  did  all  the  other  orthodox 
things,  so  far  as  she  was  able.  She  darned 
Fred's  socks.  She  even  gave  her  bedroom 
furniture  a  fresh  coat  of  white  enamel  with 
her  own  efficient  young  hands.  "You  see, 
Fred,  I  haven't  forgotten  how  to  paint/' 
and  he  answered  with  his  delightful  laugh, 
as  she  knew  he  would,  and  a  kiss,  as  she 
hoped  he  would,  which  also  was  quite  or 
thodox.  What  more  should  a  true  woman 
want  ?  Not  much  more,  perhaps,  not  for  a 
while  at  least,  not  while  she  could  be  sure 
of  that  and  baskingly  blind  to  all  else. 

But  she  could  not  very  well  spin  and 
weave,  because  spinning-wheels  are  horri- 

IO2 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

bly  expensive,  and  Fred  needed  the  only  one 
they  could  afford  in  the  studio  for  back 
grounds  for  illustrations  of  stories  about 
old-fashioned  wives.  If  she  had  tried  to 
brew  simples  of  herbs  in  this  refined  apart 
ment-house  the  other  refined  tenants  would 
have  complained  of  the  odor,  and  the 
"South  American  generals"  who  guarded 
the  refined  glass-and-iron  grille  entrance 
would  have  mounted  the  stairs  and  put  the 
Carrolls  out.  And  that  would  have  been  a 
pity,  for  they  had  only  recently  moved  in, 
their  quaint  old  house  having  finally  proved 
to  be  too  quaint  and  too  far  up  Manhattan 
Island,  both  for  their  business  and  pleasure 
in  life.  It  was  too  far  from  Molly's  friends; 
she  was  becoming  a  popular  young  married 
woman.  It  was  too  far  from  Fred's  art 
editor's;  he  was  becoming  a  popular  illus 
trator.  Besides,  if  Fred's  work  took  them 
abroad,  all  they  had  to  do  was  lock  the  door. 
The  expense  of  a  care-taker  was  saved. 

Well,  there  is  one  old-fashioned  function 
of  wifehood  which   modern   improvements 
have  not  yet  taken  away  from  women,  and 
103 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

that  is  child-bearing;  though,  to  be  sure, 
modern  industrial  improvements  have  made 
child-rearing  pretty  expensive  for  men,  es 
pecially  such  as  earn  a  livelihood  by  the 
sweat  of  their  own  faces,  not  those  of  em 
ployees.  The  young  Carrolls  had  talked 
a  good  deal  about  how  they  were  going  to 
bring  up  their  children.  They  talked  about 
it  no  longer.  .  .  . 

So  as  Molly  could  not  very  well  sit  still 
and  wait  all  day  in  their  happy  home  to 
meet  Fred  with  a  kiss,  when  he  returned  at 
nightfall,  wearied  with  the  cares  of  the 
world,  she  was  forced  to  occupy  herself  out 
side  the  walls  of  her  happy  home,  and  with 
interests  foreign  to  her  husband's.  What 
else  was  there  for  her  to  do  ?  Fred  did  not 
want  her  in  the  studio;  it  was  not  in  ac 
cordance  with  his  inherited  conception  of 
a  wife — a  woman  to  set  on  high  and  wor 
ship,  a  divinity  to  come  home  and  say 
one's  prayers  to,  a  helpmeet  to  share  one's 
thoughts,  one's  life. 

As  time  went  on,  however,  he  told  her 
fewer  of  his  thoughts,  consulted  her  less 
104 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

about  his  work.  Naturally,  since  with  the 
kindest  intentions  he  had  carefully  put  her 
out  of  both.  She  was  still  sympathetic,  but 
she  no  longer  understood.  "Why  trouble 
your  little  head  about  it?"  became  his  at 
titude.  She  was  his  wife.  She  should  be 
cherished  and  protected. 

Then  when  he  felt,  with  the  supple  sym 
pathy  of  his  sort,  that  she  was  conscious 
of  a  certain  lack,  he  straightway  declared, 
"When  I  lock  my  studio  door  I  want  to 
forget  my  work."  Home,  he  said,  was  too 
hallowed  to  drag  one's  shop  into  it;  the 
fireside  was  sacred,  "even  though  it  is 
asbestos/'  he  added  smiling.  Her  girlish 
ignorance  he  now  thought  quite  charming; 
it  was  so  "feminine."  For,  your  truly  ac 
complished  sentimentalist  has  adjustable 
ideals;  when  the  stern  facts  do  not  fit  them, 
make  your  ideals  fit  the  facts.  Women, 
he  said,  must  just  be  a  beautiful  influence. 
You  see,  the  psychic  side  is  so  much  more 
developed  in  woman — fine  thing,  this  psychic 
influence. 

So,  though  better  qualified  than  most 
105 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

wives  to  be  a  life  partner  as  well  as  a  love 
partner,  she  conscientiously  stifled  those 
aptitudes  and  became  a  "cunning  little 
thing"  instead.  She  had  quaint,  amusing 
ways,  was  good  at  mimicry,  a  charming 
hostess;  her  little  dinners  were  famous. 
Having  now  no  other  function  in  their 
menage  than  that  of  professional  amuser 
and  caterer,  she  accordingly  spent  the  rest 
of  the  time  in  catering  to  her  own  amuse 
ment.  She  had  recently  persuaded  Fred  to 
let  her  join  a  morning  sketch  club.  He  did 
not  fancy  the  strenuous  studio  type  of 
woman — they  were  so  often  sloppy — but  he 
laughed  and  gave  in,  since  she  wanted  it. 
This  helped  to  kill  another  hour  of  the  day, 
against  her  lord's  return,  and  gave  her  some 
thing  she  could  call  her  "work,"  and  gave 
him  something  else  to  smile  at  with  indul 
gent  fondness.  After  all,  it  is  well  to  keep 
them  occupied  harmlessly,  and  sketching  is 
a  pretty  fad.  Otherwise,  she  might  have 
become  a  suffragette. 

In  short,  Molly  lived  very  much  as  before 

marriage^  except  that  then  she  had  exercised 

1 06 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

her  mental  faculties  enough  to  develop 
them  healthfully,  and  that  now  she  enjoyed 
the  added  luxury  of  a  husband  who,  though 
he  no  longer  adored  her,  still  adorned  her  to 
the  best  of  his  ability,  regretting  that  he 
could  not  do  it  as  well  as  she  so  richly 
deserved.  In  return  she  practised  "vicari 
ous  leisure"  for  him,  and  vicarious  maternity 
for  a  number  of  dirty  children  on  the  East 
Side. 

This,  surely,  is  an  orthodox  occupation 
for  a  lady.  It  was  what  Fred's  mother  and 
grandmother  had  done — along  with  a  great 
many  other  things,  which  could  no  longer 
be  done  within  the  home,  as  Muriel  had  in 
timated.  He  beamed  approval  at  his  wife's 
unselfishness.  He  not  only  approved,  but 
paid  for  it.  He  paid  for  it  in  money,  which 
he  did  not  value,  and  in  ambition,  which  he 
valued  highly.  His  breezy  beginnings  as  a 
precocious  young  portrait-painter,  not  so 
full  of  power,  perhaps,  as  he  believed,  were 
full  of  promise.  The  older  men  had  been 
watching  him  with  flattering  interest.  But 
unlike  some  forms  of  art,  you  can't  sit  down 
107 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

and  paint  portraits  of  people,  no  matter  how 
talented  you  may  be,  unless  they  want  you 
to  do  so;  no  more  than  a  young  lawyer  can 
try  cases  until  he  gets  them.  It  is  like  the 
actor's  art  or  the  architect's.  Opportunities 
must  be  achieved  as  well  as  the  skill  to 
improve  them. 

Now,  the  Carrolls  had  escaped  that  curi 
ous  social  ostracism  which  society  is  in 
clined  to  accord  impetuous  young  persons 
who  uphold  it  by  marrying — and  which 
sometimes  hurts  their  perplexed  feelings 
when  they  find  pleasant  paths,  open  and 
welcome  to  those  riding  alone  in  single  file, 
now  barred  to  the  same  guileless  pair  in 
double  harness.  The  Carrolls,  we  rejoice  to 
repeat,  were  not  unsuccessful  socially.  Im- 
pecuniosity  is  sometimes  a  social  asset  in 
"interesting  people,"  and  Molly's  social 
instincts  had  been  awakened  by  one  or 
two  experiences  earlier  in  her  career  as  a 
wife.  Since  then  she  had  "shown  good 
head,"  as  even  Irving  Lawton  would  testify, 
who  was  an  expert  in  such  matters,  being  a 

writer  of  society  fiction.     The  trouble  was 

108 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

that  Frederic  Carroll,  portrait-painter,  now 
had  to  make  an  income  for  two,  whether  he 
"cared  for  money "  or  not.  Therefore  he 
hadn't  time  to  meet  the  demand  for  filling 
up  country-places  or  ballasting  yachts;  and 
accordingly  his  talents  became  in  less  de 
mand — for  immortalizing  on  canvas  the 
slender  forms  and  alert  features  of  the  wives 
and  daughters  of  our  captains  of  industry 
— than  when  a  detached  young  bachelor  just 
back  from  the  other  side  and  "very  inter 
esting"  to  women.  He  gradually  aban 
doned  precarious  portrait-painting  entirely, 
and  did  pretty  girls  for  the  magazines,  with 
straight  noses  and  irreproachably  smart 
clothes,  to  illustrate  Irving  Lawton's  smart 
stories,  so  that  Frederic  Carroll's  wife  might 
have  similar  clothes  and  improve  her  mind 
at  a  fashionable  club,  and  the  minds  of 
other  people's  children  in  the  less  fashion 
able  quarters. 

She  had  sacrificed  her  own  individuality 
for  marriage,  why  should  not  he  offer  up  a 
few  sacrifices  upon  the  same  orthodox  altar  ? 
It  is  a  social  institution,  not  an  individualistic 

IOQ 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

luxury.  Even  painters,  who  cannot  very 
well  exploit  the  public,  should  be  pub 
lic-spirited.  Every  one  has  that  privilege. 
Therefore,  they  had  no  right  to  complain. 
They  uttered  no  word  of  complaint.  For 
that  matter,  as  time  went  on,  they  uttered 
fewer  words  of  any  kind.  They  still  dressed 
for  dinner  in  each  other's  honor,  but  there 
seemed  to  be  less  and  less  to  say  as  they  sat 
there,  calling  each  other  "my  dear."  .  .  . 

Indeed,  they  seemed  to  be  separated  by 
the  very  thing  that  had  brought  them  to 
gether,  their  difference  in  sex  and  all  that 
it  entailed  in  the  way  of  custom,  tradition 
and  second-hand  ideals.  So  long  as  that 
difference  was  the  paramount  attraction  it 
arched  the  chasm  between  them,  like  a 
rainbow;  but  when  this  should  evaporate, 
then  the  chasm  only  would  be  left.  .  .  . 
And  so  at  last  there  came  for  her  the  hour 
which  she  had  always  feared  and  half  ex 
pected  from  the  golden  moment  when  the 
man  she  loved  told  her  that  he  loved  and 
wanted  her.  He  loved  her  no  longer.  This 
he  did  not  tell  her,  but  she  knew,  and  his 

no 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

boyish  attempts  to  keep  this  knowledge  from 
her  and  from  himself  were  almost  sweet 
in  their  awkwardness.  He  bestowed  gifts 
upon  her  and  thoughtful  attentions,  spent 
more  money  than  he  could  afford.  It  used 
to  be  because  he  adored  her;  now  because 
he  did  not. 

Ill 

Well,  they  had  mutual  respect  left,  and 
sympathy,  and  even  admiration.  Would 
that  have  to  go  too  ? 

Now,  though  Fred's  wife  still  remained 
upon  the  high  place  he  had  made  for  her, 
the  woman  he  admired  most  in  all  the  world, 
it  was  not  so  easy  to  remain  upon  the  high 
place  he  had  made  for  himself!  For  in 
stance — though  still  married  to  the  woman 
he  admired  most  in  all  the  world — he  was 
strangely  moved  to  admire  others,  too, 
whom  he  had  not  married  at  all!  And 
yet  if  he  ceased  to  be  an  admirer  of  beauti 
ful  women,  how  could  he  make  admirable 
pictures  of  them  ?  And  then  how  could  he 
support  the  beautiful  and  altogether  admi- 
iii 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

rable  one  he  had  married  ?  But  the  worst 
of  it  was  that,  being  something  of  a  realist 
and  very  honest,  he  was  tempted  to  let  them 
know  it,  after  a  manner  he  had  long  since 
abandoned  forever. 

This  would  not  do  at  all.  For  when  you 
are  lucky  enough  to  find  the  one  woman  in 
the  world,  as  he  had  done,  God  bless  her! 
it  is  well  known  that  ever  afterward  you  are 
scarcely  aware  of  the  existence  of  any  other 
women  in  the  world  except  by  their  long 
hair  and  clothes.  He  had  lived  up  to  this 
high  ideal  of  himself  and  of  true  marriage 
quite  confidently  at  first,  bestowing  only  the 
most  benign  impersonally  gallant  attention 
upon  all  others,  including  certain  others 
who  had  once  known  him  well,  and  still 
knew  him  rather  better,  perhaps,  than  he 
knew  himself.  They  refused  to  take  him 
seriously  as  a  completely  married  man,  which 
was  unkind. 

"You  are  suffering  from  a  bad  attack  of 
matrimony,"  they  told  him  smiling. 

"You  don't  appreciate  me,"  he  replied, 
"but  then  you  never  did" — with  such  a 


112 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

reproachful  smile  in  his  ardent  young  eyes, 
which  seemed  only  to  amuse  them  the  more. 
It  was  discouraging  to  a  man  of  high  ideals. 

Alas!  he  loved  them  all.  He  wanted 
them  about.  He  liked  them  separately,  he 
liked  them  in  the  mass,  a  half  a  dozen  at 
once,  himself  the  centre,  talking  rapidly  while 
they  beamed  upon  him,  bringing  out  his 
best.  All  his  life  he  had  been  a  lover,  be 
ginning  with  a  boundless  passion  for  his 
kindergarten  teacher  who  kissed  him  when 
he  left  her  for  other  teachers,  other  loves. 
And  now  it  looked  as  if  he  might  always  be! 
— a  dreadful  prospect  for  a  man  with  a  wife 
who  trusted  him  and  was  entirely  too  nice 
to  deceive! 

He  had  been  led  to  suppose  that  when 
once  your  former  loves  all  resolve  them 
selves  into  one  grand,  enduring  passion  for 
a  wife,  then  all  your  former  faults  and 
fickleness  are  shrivelled  into  nothingness 
by  marriage,  the  great  solvent,  and  you 
arise  on  the  wings  of  true  love  to  wondrous 
heights,  a  new,  different,  better  man — and 
here  he  was  the  same  old  idiot  after  all. 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

It  is  a  comfort  to  us  to  remember  that  all 
this  must  have  been  entirely  due  to  the 
iniquitous  artistic  temperament  of  which 
we  read  so  much  in  books.  No  other  hus 
bands,  it  is  well  to  realize,  are  anything  like 
this.  The  "  plain  business  man,"  may  not 
be  so  exciting,  but  we  are  glad  to  believe 
that  he  is  always  business-like  and  true  to  his 
contract.  Think  of  those  eleven  excellent 
American  marriages  which  don't  end  in 
divorce. 

Well,  if  the  smouldering  fires  of  youth 
flared  up  at  times,  one  must  put  them  out. 
Youth  was  past.  He  had  had  his  fling. 
He  was  married  now,  owned,  possessed, 
laid  upon  a  shelf — which  he  had  chosen 
for  himself — and  there  he  must  remain, 
sighing  occasionally  for  what  might  have 
been,  making  the  best  of  what  was,  keeping 
out  of  mischief  if  possible,  or,  failing  that, 
out  of  print;  thus  serving  society,  offering 
a  good  example  to  other  young  persons,  who 
in  turn  could  also  go  blindly  into  marriage 
and  find  out  for  themselves — and  likewise 

serve  society.  .  .  . 

114 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Down  this  cynical  highway  of  the  world, 
misnamed  on  its  stencilled  sign-post,  "Mar 
riage,"  dreary  with  the  dust  of  many  who 
had  gone  before,  monotonous  with  the  simi 
larity  of  undeceiving  masks,  this  spirited 
young  pair  of  innocents,  chained  together 
but  out  of  step,  was  blindly  headed— until  a 
woman  named  Muriel,  who  had  been  cry 
ing  by  the  road-side,  threw  off  her  mask  and 
laughed  at  the  comic  procession. 

IV 

Molly  was  going  to  her  husband's  studio, 
something  she  rarely  did.  She  had  arrived 
at  a  decision,  and  being  a  woman  of  spirit 
she  was  determined  to  announce  it  without 
delay.  For  one  thing,  she  had  decided  that 
she  could  not  for  another  day  endure  the 
indignity  of  being  an  economic  nonentity! 
It  was  bad  enough  when  your  husband  loved 
you,  but  when  he  did  not — well,  there  could 
be  just  one  thing  worse  than  her  present 
pitiable  state,  and  that  was  her  probable 
future  state,  after  she  had  grown  fat  and 
stupid,  let  us  say.  So  as  she  was  of  no  use 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

to  him,  and  as  she  could  not  be  an  economic 
entity,  not  knowing  how,  she  had  decided 
to  tell  him  in  a  friendly  way  that  she  was 
going  home  to  her  father.  They  could  still 
talk  as  friends.  They  were  friends.  There 
were  to  be  no  hysterics.  She  would  put  it 
altogether  on  her  own  selfish  grounds,  for 
that  was  the  way  to  manage  Fred;  if  she 
tried  to  prove  to  him  that  she  was  wrecking 
his  life,  he  would  only  laugh  at  her,  take 
her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her.  The  days  of 
their  unhallowed  kisses  were  done.  .  .  . 

Her  peroration  would  be  this:  "Fred, 
would  you  share  the  income  of  any  friend 
of  yours,  however  large  the  income  or  dear 
the  friend  ?  Why,  it  is  unthinkable  to  you. 
Well,  so  it  is  to  me."  Then  she  would  say 
good-by — without  any  hysterics. 

She  was  perfectly  convinced  she  was 
right.  It  was  an  irrational  knot.  It  was 
better  to  untie  it  before  the  knot  became 
fast  with  children.  She  was  glad  now,  oh, 
so  glad,  that  she  had  no  children.  She  and 
Fred  were  free  to  separate.  It  was  right 
to  separate.  It  would  be  wrong  not  to. 

116 


But  as  it  happened  she  did  interrupt  him,  though  not  at  his  work 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

It  was  half  dark  when  she  arrived  at  the 
studio  building,  so  she  knew  that  she  would 
not  interrupt  anything  more  serious  than 
the  cleaning  of  his  brushes. 

But  as  it  happened  she  did  interrupt  him, 
though  not  at  work.  It  seems  that  he  had 
finished  his  work,  and  there,  seated  beside 
a  pleasant  open  fire,  were  her  husband  and 
a  woman.  It  was  Muriel  Vincent. 

She  was  making  him  a  cup  of  tea  while  the 
driving  rain  beat  upon  the  skylight  over 
head.  Molly  recognized  one  of  the  numer 
ous  tea  services  she  had  received  as  wedding 
presents.  Fred  was  leaning  back  in  a  long, 
low  chair  rolling  a  cigarette  with  his  deft 
fingers,  and  seemed  to  be  quite  contented 
with  his  lot.  There  was  something  in  the 
mutual  attitude  of  these  two  which  sug 
gested  that  the  scene  was  as  familiar  to  them 
as  it  was  novel  to  Molly. 

Fred,  arising  briskly  for  a  lazy  man,  at 
tempted   an    introduction,    stopped,    seeing 
that  it  was  unnecessary,  both  women  ex 
plaining  why  at  once. 
117 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"I  had  no  idea  I  was  to  have  this  good 
fortune  so  soon,"  sang  Muriel  easily. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Molly,  brightly  returning 
the  look. 

Muriel  in  the  shadow  smiled  as  she 
watched  the  girl's  face.  "A  conventional 
little  thing,"  she  thought.  "This  will  do 
her  good."  To  Muriel  all  wives  in  good 
and  regular  standing  were  conventional 
little  things. 

Strangely  enough,  instead  of  the  calm 
dignity  with  which  Molly  commanded  the 
studio  in  her  imaginary  interview  with  her 
husband,  she  suddenly  felt  neither  calm  nor 
dignified,  nor  did  she  think  for  the  moment 
of  saying  good-by  forever.  Nevertheless, 
she  held  herself  in  hand  and  played  the 
game  pretty  well  for  a  conventional  little 
thing  who  had  had  no  experience  with 
husbands  who  "disappear  in  private,"  as 
Muriel  had  put  it  in  her  lecture. 

"How  comfy  you  look!"  was  what  she 
said  aloud  to  them;  to  herself  she  said,  "I 

might  have  guessed  it!" 
118 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Won't  you  try  this  one?"  said  Fred, 
offering  her  a  great,  tall  Italian  chair  quite 
as  if  she  were  a  distinguished  stranger. 
She  had  helped  him  bargain  for  that  chair 
once  when  in  Genoa.  He  brought  her  a 
footstool,  too.  He  seemed  quite  desirous 
of  making  her  also  "comfy." 

"You  are  just  in  time,"  said  Muriel, 
bending  over  the  tea  things. 

"For  what?"   asked  Molly  with  a  smile. 

"For  tea,"  said  Fred. 

"Oh,"  said  Molly. 

"May  I  make  you  a  cup  ?"  asked  Muriel. 

"Thanks,  I've  had  my  tea.  I  merely 
dropped  in  to  escape  the  storm.  Isn't  it 
a  dreadful  storm?" 

To  this  the  others  amicably  agreed,  and 
then  there  was  a  little  pause,  Muriel  smiling 
with  unseen  relish.  She  loved  this  sort  of 
thing,  perhaps  because  she  was  a  novelist. 
"Don't  you  think  you'd  better  have  another 
cup  ? "  she  asked. 

"Do,"   urged   Fred,   "it's  awfully  good 


tea." 


Strong  or  weak?"    Muriel  inquired. 

119 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

"Pray  don't  trouble/'  said  little  Mrs. 
Carroll,  quietly  seating  herself  at  the  table, 
"I  can  make  it  myself."  This  seemed 
eminently  permissible.  It  was  her  own 
tea  service.  Muriel  had  not  even  been  the 
donor  of  this  wedding  present.  Hence, 
Muriel  did  not  object. 

There  was  another  little  pause,  which 
Muriel  alone  enjoyed. 

" Where  in  the  world  is  the  sugar?" 
Molly  asked  her  husband. 

"I'll  get  it,"  said  Muriel  rising. 

"Please  don't  trouble,"  said  Molly  with 
an  amused  smile,  "Fred  will  find  it." 

"But  I  don't  know  where  she  keeps  it," 
said  Fred,  and  then  he  remembered  too 
late  that  it  is  always  best  to  think  before 
speaking. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Molly,  and  then,  be 
cause  she  felt  the  crimson  in  her  cheeks, 
began  to  laugh  a  little,  for  that  seemed  the 
only  thing  to  do,  and  Fred  laughed,  too. 
Then  Muriel,  filling  one  of  Molly's  wedding 
presents  with  sugar,  laughed  most  of  all. 
They  felt  so  much  better  then  that  they 

120 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

talked  about  other  things,  though  they 
thought  about  only  one  thing. 

"May  I  show  the  head  to  Molly  ?"  asked 
Fred  with  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"Oh,  you  have  been  doing  Mrs.  Vin 
cent's  portrait?"  Molly  inquired.  She 
knew  that  it  was  an  inspiration,  but  she 
felt  relieved. 

The  head  was  an  interesting  study,  and 
Molly  said  so.  The  brilliance  was  there,  the 
superficial  charm,  the  glitter — and  a  cer 
tain  wistful  desire  for  better  things.  Fred 
was  not  a  bad  psychologist,  when  he  let 
himself  go  and  only  felt.  It  was  when  he 
tried  to  think  that  he  ran  into  trouble. 
Molly  was  not  so  much  in  awe  of  the 
celebrity  after  seeing  Fred's  view  of  her. 
Like  so  many  who  are  impressive  in  public, 
she  was  not  at  all  impressive  in  conversa 
tion.  But  she  was  dreadfully  good  looking, 
and  Fred  treated  her  with  the  easy  assur 
ance  of  old  friendship,  fondness  maybe. 

"He  knows  me  too  well,"  said  Muriel, 
gazing  upon  the  canvas,  with  an  interest 
ing  shrug.  "It's  a  frightful  expose.  I  shall 


121 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

never  let  any  one  else  see  it."  She  rippled 
from  one  picturesque  pose  to  another  as  she 
spoke.  Molly  watched  her  passively,  think 
ing  of  many  things,  the  lecture,  for  instance 
—"the  grind-stone  by  day,  the  hearth-stone 
by  night." 

Fred  was  getting  out  other  canvases. 
"You  ought  to  come  oftener,"  he  said  to 
Molly.  "I've  lots  of  junk  here." 

"Perhaps  I  ought."  She  smiled.  Muriel 
saw  the  smile,  saw  the  point,  appreciated  both. 

"Muriel  has  been  advising  me  to  finish 
up  some  of  this  stuff,"  he  went  on  from  the 
corner  where  he  was  blowing  dust  off  old 
sketches.  "It's  mostly  rot,  but  it's  awfully 
good  of  her  to  take  an  interest  in  it.  Don't 
you  think  so,  Molly?" 

"I  once  loved  your  husband  madly," 
Muriel  remarked  with  elaborate  careless 
ness,  "but  he  would  have  none  of  me." 

"What  atrocious  taste,"  said  Molly  with 
a  side  glance  at  the  portrait. 

"I  thought  so  at  the  time,"  Muriel  re 
plied.  "But  I  don't  now,"  she  added, 
with  an  appreciative  look  at  Molly. 


122 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Fred's  young  wife  turned  slowly  and 
looked  at  Muriel  with  an  air  of  calm,  de 
tached  interest.  "Dear  me,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "she  seems  to  think  she  can  afford 
to  be  nice  to  me!" 

Muriel  noted  the  look  and  her  eyebrows 
shot  up  as  Molly  turned  away.  She  was 
somewhat  taken  aback.  She  was  amused, 
but  aroused.  Fred  displaying  canvases 
against  chairs  and  table  legs  did  not  know 
that  with  two  brief  glances  a  gauntlet  had 
been  thrown  down  and  taken  up,  and  that 
he  was  the  prize  of  contest. 

"I  must  be  going  on,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll, 
fastening  her  gloves.  "  Good-by,  my  dear," 
to  Fred.  "So  nice  to  have  seen  you,"  to 
Muriel.  "I  am  at  home  on  Wednes 
days." 

"Thanks,"  said  Muriel,  a  little  surprised. 
For  a  conventional  little  thing,  that  was  not 
a  bad  exit  speech,  thought  Muriel,  remem 
bering  her  own  invitation  to  call,  unheeded 
by  Molly  at  the  club. 

"Are  you  going  to  some  place  where  you 
don't  want  me  tagging  on?"  asked  Fred. 
123 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

There  was  a  quizzical  smile  on  his  wife's 
face  as  she  said  one  little  word,  "Home." 

Fred  laughed,  and  Muriel  flashed  a  look 
of  admiration.  Muriel  loved  subtlety. 

"Won't  you  come,  too?"  Molly  asked 
her,  as  Fred  turned  for  his  hat,  as  if  quite  ac 
customed  to  leaving  Muriel  in  possession. 

Muriel  shook  her  head.  "Thanks,"  she 
said,  going  to  the  door  with  them,  "I  live 
here." 

"Here?" 

"In  this  building — across  the  hall." 

"Ah,  yes."  There  was  a  faint  breath  of 
contempt  in  Molly's  tone,  which  annoyed 
Muriel — the  smug  superiority  of  a  wife. 

Bidding  their  guest  good-by  in  the  cor 
ridor,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic  Carroll  walked 
home  together,  remarking  upon  the  after 
glow  down  the  canons  of  the  cross  streets, 
an  effect  they  had  often  admired  together, 
being  one  which  everybody  on  coming  to 
New  York  discovers  afresh,  and  informs 
New  York  of  it,  considerately.  It  was  espe 
cially  fine  now  after  the  rain,  so  they  dis 
cussed  it  animatedly  while  both  thought  of 

124. 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

something  else,  and  each  knew  what  the 
other  was  thinking  about.  .  .  .  And  yet 
here  was  a  pair  who  had  a  sense  of  humor 
— they  often  told  you  so. 


Always  a  fickle  and  variable  thing  is 
woman.  Here  were  added  excellent  reasons 
for  untying  the  irrational  knot — another 
woman  making  tea  for  him,  helping  him 
in  his  work,  brightening  his  gray  horizon; 
a  beautiful  woman,  too!  and  Fred  was  a 
worshipper  of  beauty.  Yet  the  knot  was 
allowed  to  remain. 

If  to  be  an  economic  nonentity  were  bad 
enough  when  happily  married,  and  still 
worse  after  a  husband  has  lost  interest  in 
his  wife,  surely  it  was  worst  of  all,  an  intol 
erable  disgrace,  when  he  has  begun  to 
show  interest  in  one  who  wasn't  his  wife. 
Previously  she  had  loved  and  respected 
him;  now  she  was  inclined  to  hate  and  de 
spise  him,  and  yet  instead  of  saying  good-by 
forever  she  wanted  to  cling  to  the  unworthy 
I25 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

deceiver  for,  no  doubt,  a  corresponding  period 
of  time.  .  .  . 

Somehow  the  vaunted  sense  of  humor 
which  the  modern  generation  prates  of  with 
such  humorless  incessancy  does  not  seem 
to  help  much  when  it  is  needed  most.  The 
important  emotions  do  not  stop  to  consult 
humor.  They  have  their  way  with  us  quite 
as  in  the  old  days  before  the  distressingly 
overworked  phrase  was  invented. 

Little  Molly  was  confronted  by  a  force 
greater  than  herself,  imperious  and  quite 
irrational.  It  was  sweeping  her  off  her  feet 
in  the  insolent  manner  of  the  real  things  of 
life,  few  of  which  are  conspicuously  rational. 
What  we  think  about  them  in  our  little 
minds  is  interesting  to  us,  but  of  no  great 
consequence  to  them. 

It  is  for  some  great  racial  purpose  that 
this  oft-maligned  instinct  of  jealousy  persists 
along  with  its  all-praised  parent,  love.  Per 
haps  this  girl  would  now  awake  and  become 
a  woman,  perhaps  she  would  even  make 
a  man  of  her  husband  —  but  that  de 
pends! 

126 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

Throughout  the  sleepless  night  following 
the  innocent  little  scene  she  had  interrupt 
ed  in  the  studio,  this  somewhat  civilized 
young  person  was  led  by  her  uncivilized 
emotions  into  depths  she  had  not  dreamed 
of.  She  even,  toward  morning,  saw  herself 
accepting — so  happy  to  accept — whatever 
portion  her  lord  would  grant  her,  if  only  he 
kept  her  near.  Many  a  wife,  she  knew, 
had  learned  to  adjust  herself  to  a  husband's 
past  not  only,  but  to  a  present  as  well, 
shutting  her  eyes  to  what  she  must  not  see, 
forgiving  what  seemed  unforgivable  because 
unable  to  keep  her  little  share  of  the  world 
without  forgiving. 

Oh,  what  a  chance  she  had  missed! 
Another  was  now  helping  him  in  his  work 
("  which  is  dearer  to  him  than  you  are," 
Muriel  had  said  in  her  lecture,  "as  it  ought 
to  be  if  he  is  a  man  and  not  a  mere  bride 
groom")  another  was  reviving  his  stifled 
ambition,  filling  a  place  in  his  dreary,  dis 
appointing  existence — and  the  place  was 
hers,  his  wife's.  She  had  lost  it,  and  it  was 
her  fault,  not  his.  She  had  allowed  herself 
127 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

to  become  a  "cunning  little  thing/'  a  doll, 
an  expensive  plaything;  he  was  tired  of 
this  plaything  and  now  wanted  another. 
"When  a  woman  ceases  to  be  a  luxury  to  a 
man  she  becomes  a  nuisance — unless  by 
that  time  she  has  made  herself  a  necessity." 
Those  words,  scarcely  heeded  at  the  time, 
came  back  to  her  now,  and  they  too,  by 
an  ironic  coincidence,  had  been  uttered  by 
Muriel!  .  .  . 

Well,  by  dawn  the  paroxysm  had  passed, 
as  paroxysms  have  a  way  of  doing  in  many 
a  little  apartment,  while  the  yet  new-looking 
wedding  presents  confidently  wait  to  be 
dusted.  With  the  clear  daylight  she  looked 
the  matter  in  the  face  to  see  what  could  be 
done  about  it.  She  would  not  mope  and 
moan  and  break  her  heart.  She  was  not 
that  sort.  There  was  plenty  of  latent  spirit 
in  this  girl.  Nothing  had  ever  happened 
to  bring  it  out.  Few  women  are  loafers  by 
nature,  as  are  so  many  men.  Women  have 
seldom  had  a  chance  to  loaf  until  modern 
times,  and  it  is  to  be  noted  that  even  in 

their  clubs  they  have  not  completely  mas- 
128 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

tered  the  art.  They  must  have  programmes 
for  improving  their  minds. 

Since  she  could  not  do  without  him,  she 
resolved  to  get  him  back.  She  knew  that 
she  could  make  a  fuss,  and  he  would  do  his 
duty,  rather  than  hurt  her.  But  she  did  not 
want  duty.  She  wanted  love. 

How  could  she  get  that,  with  her  little 
quiver-full  of  charms,  all  known,  all  worn, 
matched  with  that  opulent  other  ?  She 
knew  that  her  man  was  no  inexperienced 
weakling,  but  she  also  knew  how  the  very 
meretriciousness  of  Muriel's  allure,  so  mad 
dening  to  contemplate,  "interested"  men 
who  had  been  kept  too  close  to  "the  grind 
stone  by  day  and  the  hearth-stone  by  night." 
Whether  "the  other"  would  deem  it  worth 
while  to  exercise  her  exotic  arts  did  not 
occur  to  Molly.  A  young  wife  always  be 
lieves  her  husband  worth  while,  perhaps 
because  she  found  him  so;  just  as  she  al 
ways  thinks  her  husband  particularly  sus 
ceptible,  for,  again,  had  not  she  found  him  so  ? 

First  of  all  she  would  never  let  Fred 
know  what  she  had  gone  through.  For  she 
129 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

was  aware  that  there  is  nothing  so  ugly  and 
disillusionizing  as  an  exhibition  of  jealousy. 
That  was  why  she  stayed  in  her  bedroom 
until  after  he  had  breakfasted  and  gone 
whistling  to  the  studio,  thinking  perhaps  of 
tea  time.  He  would  have  seen  her  red 
eyes  and  perhaps  have  guessed  the  rest. 
He  doubtless  suspected  her  already. 

She  repressed  another  natural  feminine 
impulse.  She  might  easily  make  him  jeal 
ous.  She  could  flirt  with  the  first  available 
male  she  found,  and  her  husband  would 
come  running  back  to  put  the  poacher  off. 
That  device  was  employed  by  some  women 
and  most  playwrights  to  produce  an  illu 
sion  of  happy  marriage;  the  estranged  pair 
rushed  passionately  into  each  other's  arms 
—and  stayed  there  until  the  curtain  went 
down.  But  she  was  not  sure  that  this 
would  keep  him  long  from  stealing  away 
again  to  gaze  at  the  forbidden  fruit,  perhaps 
to  pluck  it  this  time.  Fred  was  quick  as 
a  woman  in  such  matters;  he  might  see 
through  this  sorry  little  ruse  and  despise 
her  for  it.  At  any  rate,  she  would  despise 
130 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

herself  for  it.  She  was  sick  of  the  "tricks 
of  her  trade/'  as  Muriel  had  called  them. 
No,  she  wanted  him  to  come  back  to  her  of 
his  own  accord,  because  he  preferred  her 
to  all  others.  She  wanted  all  or  nothing — a 
large  order  for  a  cunning  little  thing. 

VI 

Fred  had  painted  Muriel's  portrait,  and 
when  it  was  finished  she  had  remained  to 
do  his — in  a  story  about  monogamy.  It 
began,  "Some  are  born  monogamous,  some 
achieve  monogamy,  and  some  have  monog 
amy  thrust  upon  them."  The  second  para 
graph  was  like  unto  it:  "But  when  a 
man  is  polygamous  by  nature,  monogamous 
by  contract,  and  fascinating  by  tempera 
ment  there  comes  trouble  when  success 
arrives  with  women  in  its  train." 

Fred  did  not  know  that  she  was  writing 
a  story  about  him.  But  he  was  not  sorry 
that  she  saw  fit  to  continue  her  visits  even 
after  the  canvas  was  finished.  She  seemed 
to  know  a  good  deal  about  his  trade  and 
he  needed  some  one  with  a  fresh  eye  to 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

show  his  work  to,  and  talk  it  over  with; 
particularly  some  woman,  because  no  man, 
even  the  most  devoted  friend,  will  look  so 
long,  listen  so  patiently  as  even  a  casual 
woman  friend,  and  this  one  happened  to  be 
an  old  friend  of  whom  he  had  not  seen 
much  of  late  years  since  she  became  suc 
cessful — far  more  successful,  as  it  happened, 
than  he  was,  despite  her  tribute  in  her  story 
about  him.  Maybe  that  was  why  he  failed 
to  recognize  it  when  published.  Muriel 
concocted  notable  heroes.  No  wonder  the 
women  loved  her  works. 

Fred  did  not  think  much  of  her  books, 
but  he  liked  her  looks,  and  said  so.  He 
thought  her  stories  absurd  and  told  her 
that,  too.  "You  always  write  at  the  top 
of  your  voice  when  you  write  about  men," 
he  said,  chaffing  her.  But  she  did  not  seem 
absurd  when  she  was  with  them,  nor,  by 
the  way,  did  she  talk  to  Fred  at  the  top  of 
her  voice  in  his  studio.  She  knew  a  good 
deal  about  men.  She  knew  more  about 
men  than  she  cared  to  tell.  Men  were  her 

metier. 

132 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Poor  Muriel,  she  was  by  nature  one  of 
those  same  "idealists."  For  that  matter, 
every  one  is — by  nature.  She  covered  it  up 
with  a  glittering  shield  of  cynicism,  perhaps 
to  defend  herself.  Scratch  a  live  cynic  and 
you'll  find  a  dead  sentimentalist.  Muriel 
was  not  dead.  Though  she  had  received 
some  of  the  hardest  raps  a  woman  can 
suffer  and  yet  live,  she  always  sprang  up 
again,  crying,  "I  believe!  I  believe!" 
Surely,  there  is  something  noble  in  this.  In 
regard  to  men  she  was  cynical  only  about 
those  men  she  knew.  She  still  had  faith  in 
those  she  did  not  know,  hence  she  sought 
to  know  many,  and  Fred  happened  to  be 
the  one  at  present  about  whom  she  chose 
to  wrap  her  pretty  colors. 

He  had  the  fascinating  "reserve"  of 
those  who  can't  talk — so  attractive  to  chatter 
boxes — a  "deep,  strong  nature,"  she  called 
it  in  her  earlier  stories,  for  Fred  had  been 
the  hero  of  more  than  one  of  them.  This, 
combined  with  a  fastidiously  appreciative 
way  of  regarding  her  in  his  "reserved" 
silences,  made  him  quite  delightful  to 
133 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Muriel,  who  could  not  help  wanting  to 
arouse  him;  he  was  so  big  and  clean  and 
fine,  and  seemed  so  provokingly  sure  of 
himself,  with  his  smiling  air  of  raillery,  as 
if  saying,  "Oh,  I've  been  through  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  you  know.  Nothing  can  touch 
me  now/'  She  knew  that  he  was  not  so 
crude  as  most  American  men,  but  compared 
to  certain  men  she  had  met  in  various  parts 
of  the  world  and  in  quite  various  circum 
stances  he  seemed  sweet  and  boyish.  But 
he  did  not  know  this.  He  still  had  a  great 
deal  to  learn,  and  she  had  reached  a  place 
where  innocence  appealed  to  her  again.  He 
interested  her  very  much,  and  she  regarded 
him  with  that  frank  curiosity  as  to  his  mar 
ried  happiness  which  women  who  have 
once  known  them  "very  well"  manifest  in 
other  women's  husbands.  She  wanted  to 
draw  him  out  on  that  question.  He  only 
drew  back.  That  was  a  matter  he  did  not 
care  to  go  into  with  her,  nor  with  any 
body.  He  could  not  go  into  it  with  dear 
little  Molly.  So  it  seemed  unfair  to  go  in 
to  it  even  with  himself.  He  refused  to 
134 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

think  about  it,   like    many   another   good, 
kind  husband. 

Good,  kind  husbands  always  interested 
Muriel.  She  enjoyed  watching  them  out 
of  the  corners  of  her  long  eyes  while  travel 
ling.  She  diagnosed  Fred's  case  at  once, 
and  his  ostrich-like  attempts  to  be  a  "set 
tled-down,  married  man"  almost  made  her 
laugh  in  his  face,  it  was  so  amusing.  But 
rather  pathetic  too;  she  knew  what  some  of 
his  former  colleagues  in  Paris  had  expected 
of  him  as  a  painter,  and  she  deemed  him 
worthy  of  better  things  than  turning  himself 
into  a  dull  money-making  machine  for  main 
taining  a  menage  which  no  longer  charmed 
him,  she  fancied,  as  much  as  the  club  he 
no  longer  habituated.  Dining  at  clubs  with 
his  fellow  craftsmen  would  have  been,  at 
any  rate,  more  profitable  to  him,  and  there 
fore  to  his  "helpmeet,"  but  he  could  not  do 
that  without  neglecting  her.  Therefore  he 
dined  with  his  lawful  wife,  according  to  the 
prescribed  custom,  either  at  home,  or  in  the 
company  of  common  friends.  Muriel  had 
seen  the  same  process  going  on  with  others, 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

not  only  in  the  arts,  but  in  the  professions 
and  business.  Men  need  diversion  at  the 
end  of  their  day's  work,  and  the  reason 
many  married  men  of  whom  one  would 
never  suspect  it  "went  into  society/'  stupid 
as  it  was  in  America,  was  that  there  was 
no  other  place  to  go. 

She  was  rather  sceptical  about  any  man's 
remaining  happy  in  marriage.  She  inti 
mated  as  much  to  Fred.  "Well,  you  ought 
to  know,"  he  said.  So  she  did  not  try 
again  very  soon.  She  was  far  beyond 
being  hurt  by  such  references.  Muriel  only 
laughed.  But  she  respected  the  reproach 
and  admired  him  for  delivering  it.  So 
many  men  that  Muriel  met,  especially 
young  ones,  like  him,  enjoyed  the  "misun 
derstood"  role,  and  she  was  apt  at  playing 
the  "sympathetic"  part,  if  they  were  worth 
while,  though  usually  she  despised  them 
afterward. 

To  Muriel  it  was  still  a  source  of  wonder, 

rather  pretty,  almost  virginal  wonder,  that 

men,  these  great,  hulking,  predatory  males, 

so  intense  and  oblivious  in  the  pursuit  of 

136 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

business  or  sport,  should  take  women  so 
seriously,  should  become  so  intense  and 
predatory  in  the  pursuit  of  females.  And  it 
was  still  a  source  of  feminine  zest  to  make 
them  feel  that  way.  She  was  not  so  wicked 
as  some  wives  preferred  to  think;  she  was 
not  in  the  least  "heartless,"  as  some  men 
declared.  She  wanted  the  power  and  the 
glory  of  loving  and  being  loved;  only  she 
did  not  happen  to  be  of  the  mother  type. 
Surely  civilization  has  its  uses  for  her  type 
too,  just  as  for  men  who  are  not  "  domestic," 
though  civilization  always  hates  to  admit  it. 
She  said  she  was  glad  to  be  of  use  to  him 
in  his  work.  She  said  it  with  a  twinkle  in 
her  superb  eyes  which  made  Fred's  flutter 
and  fall — down  to  his  palette,  to  his  work 
again.  But  she  meant  it.  For  even  her 
type  is  glad  to  aid  and  comfort  the  stronger 
sex  in  its  battles  with  the  world.  They've 
got  to  be,  as  things  are  arranged  for  them 
by  the  gallant  sex,  which  tells  them  how 
much  they  enjoy  self-sacrifice.  Well,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  she  did  help  and  hearten 
him,  though  as  the  portrait  progressed  they 
137 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

talked  about  other  interesting  matters  too, 
such  as  themselves  and  each  other. 

Her  assumption  of  superior  knowledge  of 
life  he  ignored  or  laughed  at,  harking  back 
to  the  old  days  when  she  was  a  mere  girl 
and  he  was  a  man.  He  still  bullied  her — 
and  (alas!)  she  still  liked  it.  "As  a  matter 
of  fact/'  he  said,  "you  have  never  really 
'lived/  though  that,  of  course,  is  just  what 
you  think  you  have  done.  You  have  only 
experimented.  You  have  never  got  into 
the  game.  You  have  never  become  part 
of  the  real  fabric  of  life.  You  have  only 
looked  on." 

"And  you  have  found  the  real  thing? 
Is  that  your  point?" 

"My  point  is  that  you  have  missed  it/' 
he  retorted,  carefully  choosing  a  brush  from 
the  little  brown  jug  at  his  elbow. 

"Well,  it's  instructive  to  look  on  at 
those  who  have  found  it.  Is  that  why  you 
have  me  abound  ?  You  wish  to  do  me 
good?" 

"It's  because  you're  so  good  to  look  at," 
he  replied  with  a  return  of  the  youthful 
138 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

heedlessness  of  former  days,  which  amused 
and  pleased  her. 

"Well,  keep  on  looking,  if  you  think  it 
will  do  you  good." 

"Oh,  I  will,  I  will,"  he  bantered.  "I'm 
not  afraid." 

"So  I  have  heard  you  say,"  she  an 
swered,  continuing  to  smile  at  him. 

He  stopped  painting  and  looked  up. 
"Dear  me,  Muriel,  do  you  think  you  are 
tempting  me?"  he  jeered  at  her  pleasantly. 

"How  can  I  when  you  are  perfectly  hap 
py?"  she  answered  after  a  pause. 

He  kept  on  painting. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  believe  I  could  play  the 
devil  with  you  if  I  wanted  to."  She  laughed 
delightfully,  bending  to  look  into  his  eyes. 

He  was  perfectly  willing  to  let  her  think 
so,  as  long  as  he  knew  she  was  doing  noth 
ing  of  the  sort.  And  if  at  times  a  certain 
well-known  impulse  arose,  to  follow  where 
she  led — the  old  instinct  for  pursuit  and 
capture,  with  its  recklessness  and  regret- 
he  pulled  himself  up  short  with  the  thought, 
"That's  so,  I  don't  do  this  sort  of  thing 
139 


THE  MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

any  more."  It  was  not  because  he  did  not 
want  to — that  high  ideal  of  himself  had 
crashed  long  ago — but  because  he  had  no 
right  to.  He  had  a  wife.  He  had  promised 
to  love  her.  Such  promises,  naturally,  do 
more  harm  than  good  when  the  appalling 
discovery  is  made  that  they  cannot  be  kept. 
But  the  promise  to  cleave  to  her  was  a 
mere  matter  of  will.  He  had  lots  of  it. 
That  promise  could  be  kept.  It  must  be 
kept.  So  he  went  on  painting. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  it's  a  pretty 
good  thing  to  keep  your  self-respect?"  he 
asked  one  day  in  the  light  manner  with 
which  serious  things  are  tossed  out  by  the 
generation  which  worships  Humor  and  fears 
its  god.  "It's  one  of  the  few  real  satisfac 
tions  left  us  by  civilization." 

"The  great  art,"  gibed  Muriel,  "the  real 
civilization,  is  to  do  anything  you  want  and 
yet  keep  your  self-respect.  The  thing  you 
want  is  the  thing  you  need!' 

"That's  all  right,"  he  retorted  pointedly, 
"for  any  one  whose  capacity  for  self-de 
ception  is  unlimited." 
140 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"  Which  corresponds,"  rejoined  Muriel 
glibly,  "with  the  capacity  for  conceiving  and 
achieving  great  things.  The  trouble  with 
you,  Fred,  is  that  there  is  a  big  man  inside, 
only  you  won't  let  it  out.  Copy-book 
maxims  are  for  copy-book  minds.  Timid 
souls  always  look  to  tradition,  convention 
and  authority.  The  mob  couldn't  see  any 
thing  else,  if  it  tried.  It  couldn't  do  any 
thing  else,  even  if  it  could  see.  But  big 
men  have  to  make  their  own  laws,  or  else 
they  won't  make  big  successes." 

"  Fine!  "  He  laughed.  "  Muriel,  you're 
a  wonder!  " 

Yet  Fred  thought  there  was  some  truth 
in  this.  Most  men  are  easily  convinced 
that  there  is  a  pretty  big  thing  inside.  And 
the  joke  of  it  is  that  they  are  generally 
right  about  it ! 

It  was  all  rather  silly  and  very  attractive. 
She  was  beautiful  and  somewhat  naughty, 
and  he  was  still  quite  young.  .  .  . 

Molly's  unexpected  visit  put  a  new  com 
plexion  upon  all  this. 


141 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

VII 

He  did  not  want  to  think  about  his  mar 
riage,  but  now  he  was  obliged  to.  Mischief- 
making  Muriel  had  caused  both  these  in 
genuous  young  people  to  stop  and  think. 
What  a  pity!  If  it  weren't  for  these  muck- 
rakers  the  Carrolls  and  other  well-meaning 
reactionaries  might  remain  dormant  and 
docile,  piously  calling  themselves  "con 
servatives"  and  doing  their  sober  best  to 
conserve  a  well-arranged  collection  of  empty 
shells,  which  have  acquired  the  dignified 
tone  of  time,  prettily  polished  by  the  ha 
bitual  handling  of  the  generations  which 
thrived  and  grew  strong  on  the  vital  sub 
stance  formerly  found  therein.  .  .  . 

He  did  not  want  to  hurt  his  tender  little 
wife.  She  was  too  fine  and  sweet  for  small 
worries  of  this  sort,  however  groundless. 
She  was  his  wife,  and  he  wished  to  protect 
her.  Could  that  be  why  he  had  not  men 
tioned  Muriel's  recurrence  in  his  orbit— 
and  in  his  studio  ?  He  did  not  believe  in 
talking  shop  at  the  dinner-table.  The  home 
142 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

was  sacred.     "When  I  lock  my  studio  door 
I  want  to  forget  everything  in  it." 

By  nature  he  was  a  fearless,  honest 
young  man  with  gallant  defiance  of  the 
world  in  his  steady  eye.  He  was  tenderly 
fond  of  his  mate,  and  would  have  preferred 
to  talk  to  her,  just  as  he  would  have  pre 
ferred  to  love  her  to  distraction,  if  he  could. 
But,  since  it  is  one  of  the  interesting 
taboos  of  this  artificial  cult,  that  a  man 
married  to  one  woman  should  never  see 
very  much  of  other  women,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  talking  about  it  to  his 
wife,  for  they  were  both  pious  devotees  of 
the  cult.  The  theory  seems  to  be  that  if 
a  man  loves  his  wife,  how  can  he  care 
enough  for  other  women  to  see  much  of 
them  ?  or  if  he  has  grown  tired  of  seeing 
too  much  of  his  wife,  how  can  he  be  trusted 
with  other  women  ?  For  women  are  fe 
males  and,  therefore,  males  can  have  but 
one  real  use  for  them.  The  implication 
may  not  be  very  flattering  to  our  so-called 
civilization,  but  we  have  to  take  our  semi- 
barbaric  conventions  as  we  find  them,  and 
143 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

make  the  civilized  best  of  it,  or  the  decivil- 
izing  worst.  This  worthy  young  man  was 
making  the  best  of  it  by  accepting  a  little 
surreptitious  solace  from  a  woman  whom 
in  his  free  and  fastidious  bachelor  days  he 
had  been  inclined  to  ignore  or  avoid,  there 
being  so  many  others  he  was  free  to  see, 
and  she  being  one  of  those  who  "always 
made  him  tired."  He  was  making  the 
worst  of  it  by  saying  nothing  about  it  to 
his  wife,  whom  he  had  promised  to  cherish 
until  death  would  them  part. 

The  portrait  of  Muriel  was  brought  out, 
not  to  hide  behind  it,  but  to  comfort  Molly 
with  it.  He  had  nothing  to  hide,  except  a 
little  "mutual  helpfulness"  and  a  little  inno 
cent  play,  which  the  world  prefers  to  sus 
pect  when  grown  men  and  women  play  it, 
though  they  are  better  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  it  would  naturally  seem,  than 
youths  and  maidens  in  whom  we  beamingly 
encourage  it. 

Fred  had  done  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of. 
Nor  was  he  likely  to  make  his  wife  "unhap 
py"  so  long  as  she  trusted  him.  Her  de- 
144 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

pendence  appealed  to  his  honor,  his  loyalty, 
his  sentiment,  like  the  helplessness  of  a 
child,  if  not  to  his  heart.  He  would  gladly 
have  died  for  her;  but  living  with  any  one 
person  was  a  bore.  He  wanted  her  to  be 
happy,  to  have  everything.  At  the  ex 
pense  of  nearly  everything  he  really  wanted, 
he  was  giving  her  everything  except  the 
one  thing  essential  to  justify  and  glorify  all 
the  rest,  and  this  he  could  not  give  because 
it  was  gone. 

So  it  is  just  as  well  that  Molly  did  not 
make  a  disillusionizing  fuss.  And  if  she 
had  tried  the  ancient  trick  of  flirting  with 
another  man  he  would  not  only  have  kicked 
the  poacher  out;  he  might  have  followed 
him  out  in  disgust.  He  still  believed  in 
her,  even  if  his  belief  in  himself  had  been 
shaken  by  the  disillusionizing  crash  of  that 
peculiar  promise  to  love.  Molly's  happi 
ness  was  in  a  perilous  place. 

Well,  now  that  he  stopped  to  think  about 
it,  he  thought  clear  to  the  bottom,  or  be 
lieved  so.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that 
Molly  had  been  thoughtlessly  selfish  and 
145 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

indulgent.  Had  she  not  given  up  her 
cunning  idea  of  a  "career"  for  marriage? 
She  seemed  to  be  doing  the  right  things  in 
the  right  way,  quite  in  accord  with  the  prev 
alent  conception  of  a  dutiful  wife.  She  was 
an  excellent  manager.  She  was  quite  eco 
nomical  compared  with  so  many  wives. 
He  had  to  urge  her  to  buy  pretty  clothes. 
She  was  sympathetic  when  he  overworked 
and  told  him  he  mustn't  do  it.  She  was 
constantly  concerned  over  his  giving  up  his 
serious  work.  "But  I  warned  you!"  she 
said  prettily.  "You  would  marry  me!" 
Naturally,  he  did  not  care  to  remind  her 
of  his  youthful  hopes  and  ambitions.  That 
was  one  reason  why  he  had  stopped  talking 
shop  in  the  home,  which  was  sacred. 

Therefore,  since  it  could  not  be  her  fault, 
God  bless  her!  it  must  he  his.  For  when 
this  delicate  relationship  went  askew  among 
their  friends  wasn't  it  always  the  fault  of 
one  or  the  other  ?  or,  as  the  gossips  some 
times  decided,  with  still  more  sententious 
head-wagging,  "There  was  fault  on  both 
sides." 

146 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

It  never  occurred  to  them  that  falling  in 
love  with  some  one  else  was  not  the  cause 
of  unhappy  marriages,  but  the  result.  It 
never  occurred  to  the  onlookers,  and  seldom 
to  the  victims,  that  it  might  be  the  fault 
of  neither,  nor  of  any  human  being,  but  of 
the  very  human  institution  they  had  tried 
to  uphold  amid  conditions  of  civilization  that 
sometimes  render  it  intolerable  to  the  in 
dividuals  concerned  and  unprofitable  to 
civilization,  which  is  still  more  concerned. 
Calling  it  God's  holy  ordinance  does  not 
seem  to  make  such  unions  holy.  Monog 
amy  is  surely  right  and  reasonable  for  the 
race  at  present,  and  is  probably  not  so 
unnatural  as  the  Muriels  think.  So  it 
seems  rather  a  pity  that  it  should  be  ren 
dered  as  difficult  as  possible  by  marriage, 
the  very  institution  which  is  supposed  to 
foster  monogamy  and  the  race.  Yet  the 
archaic  customs  and  many  of  the  quaint 
conceptions  of  this  well-meaning  institu 
tion  seem  to  hinder  instead  of  help  monog 
amy.  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  great  comfort 
to  make  the  Deity  our  scapegoat  when 
147 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

these  Frankenstein  monsters  of  ours  turn 
and  rend  their  inventors,  though  a  bit  blas 
phemous  withal. 

But  those  who  see  it  seldom  say  so — and 
why  should  they  ?  The  unhappily  married 
would  seem  to  be  talking  about  themselves, 
and  are  properly  discredited.  The  happily 
married  are  afraid  they  would  seem  to  be 
talking  about  themselves,  and  are  properly 
discreet.  Whereas  those  who  are  not  mar 
ried  at  all  would  seem  to  be  talking  about 
"  something  they  know  nothing  of,"  and  are 
properly  disregarded. 

Thus  the  comic  conspiracy  of  silence  is 
ably  sustained  on  all  sides,  and  those  who 
break  it  do  so  at  the  peril  not  only  of  them 
selves,  but  of  those,  it  may  be,  who  are 
dearer.  For  he  (more  particularly  she)  who 
says  that  marriage  might  as  well  be  im 
proved,  is  apt  to  be  accused  of  attempting  to 
destroy  the  necessary  institution,  and  those 
who  hold  their  peace  can  usually  call  it  duty 
or  being  brave.  For  we  fear  our  ruthless 
monsters.  Sometimes  we  even  love  them. 
Why  not  ?  They  are  ours;  we  made  them. 
148 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

All  creators  are  prejudiced  in  favor  of  their 
own  creations. 

So  it  is  no  great  wonder  that  one  out  of 
every  twelve  more  or  less  concientious  at 
tempts  to  play  the  game  according  to 
Frankenstein  ends  in  defeat,  nor  that  so 
many  of  the  eleven  other  pairs  of  players, 
whether  they  cheat  each  other  or  not, 
enjoy  jests  in  popular  songs  and  situations 
in  successful  farces  (which  would  not  be  pop 
ular  or  successful  unless  enjoyed)  founded 
upon  the  failure  of  that  relation  in  life 
which  should  be  as  beautiful  and  sacred  as 
motherhood,  which  it  involves. 

But  all  such  stuff  is  so  unpleasant.  There 
are  many  good  people  in  the  world,  why  not 
tell  them  so;  they  like  to  be  reminded  of  it. 
There  are  many  beautiful  things  in  life;  it  is 
pleasanter  to  say  so,  thus  making  the  world 
a  better  and  more  beautiful  place  for  our 
having  been  in  it.  The  way  to  cure  all  evils 
is  to  shut  our  eyes  to  them.  If  there  be  a 
little  muck  in  the  home,  don't  rake  it;  the 
home  is  sacred.  Draw  the  blinds,  keep  out 
the  tell-tale  light.  Sweep  the  dust  of  genera- 
149 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

tions,  and  the  disease  germs  it  has  bred, 
under  the  pianola  where  no  one  will  notice 
it  (for  a  while  longer)  and  play  rag-time. 
That  is  the  way  to  make  good  cheer  and  get 
an  uplift,  thus  helping  one  another  to  be 
truer,  stronger,  more  honest  men  and  wom 
en,  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  nation's 
service.  The  Church  is  the  place  to  preach, 
whether  many  of  us  go  there  now  or  not. 
When  I  attend  the  theatre  I  want  to  laugh. 
All  this  dreary  modern  talk  only  delays  the 
action  and  destroys  my  daughter's  beautiful 
ideals,  which  she  inherited  with  a  spinning- 
wheel  from  her  great-grandmother,  who  was 
a  perfect  woman  if  there  ever  was  one. 

Well,  young  Fred  was  not  thinking 
about  the  institution  of  marriage — few  of 
them  do — but  about  his  own  marriage. 
Such  outrageous  views  were  hardly  a  part 
of  his  enlightened  training  for  the  most  im 
portant  and  far-reaching  undertaking  of  life. 
He  blamed  himself  for  being  a  brute  (which 
he  wasn't),  and  let  it  go  at  that  (which  was 
unfortunate).  But  if  he  hadn't  been  a 
brute  he  thought  he  would  have  stayed  in 
150 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

love  with  his  agreeable  little  wife — who 
had  given  him  her  all — just  as  girls  who 
are  romantically  rescued  from  a  watery 
grave  should  fall  in  love  and  stay  so  with 
their  noble  rescuers,  no  matter  how  their 
tastes,  aspirations  and  lives  may  part  after 
the  great  accident. 

But  since  he  was  a  brute,  what  was  the 
use  of  pretending  to  himself  to  be  any 
thing  else  ?  That  is  the  trouble  with  care 
fully  inculcating  silly  ideals  in  our  young. 
When  false  ideals  are  found  out,  unhypo- 
critical  persons  are  apt  to  abandon  not  only 
the  poor  little  cracked  ideals,  but  their  poor 
little  cracked  selves — and  better  ideals.  As 
Molly  said  nothing  about  her  discovery  in 
the  studio  he  began  to  think  that  she  sus 
pected  him  of  being  a  brute.  And  as  he 
indignantly  considered  the  circumstances 
too  trivial  to  dignify  with  discussion,  a 
curious  psychic  phenomenon  now  appeared: 
Those  past  casual  meetings  with  Muriel 
took  on  a  desirability  they  never  held  before. 
The  absurd  superimposed  notion  that  her 
presence  in  his  studio  was  questionable  lent 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

a  glamour  to  it,  the  charm  of  romance, 
totally  lacking  until  now,  altogether  impos 
sible  in  the  old  days  of  his  bachelor  free 
dom  when  he  could  pick  and  choose. 

He  was  not  in  love  with  Muriel.  This 
was  no  "grand  passion."  The  majority  of 
these  sorry  little  affairs  do  not  become 
even  passions,  if  left  undisturbed  by  the 
world,  like  the  innocent  associations  of  the 
unmarried.  But  once  give  them  the  allure 
of  forbidden  fruit,  then  curiosity  is  aroused 
to  gaze  upon  it,  even  though  not  a  kind  of 
fruit  they  would  naturally  choose  to  eat. 
This  sometimes  involves  clandestine  meet 
ings,  as  things  are  arranged  for  many  of 
them,  with  the  adventurous  zest  of  sharing 
a  delightful  secret — and  the  rest  follows 
naturally,  or  rather  quite  unnaturally,  but 
often  quite  unfortunately. 

Fred  Carroll  was  no  stripling,  and  he 
had  known  Muriel  all  his  life.  He  had 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  being  in 
love  with  her.  So  why  should  he  rudely 
put  her  out  of  his  studio,  where  she  was 
doing  no  harm  and  considerable  good  ? 
152 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

And  if  his  wife  chose  to  insult  them  by 
being  suspicious  and  proudly  silent,  he  was 
sorry,  but  that  was  not  their  fault.  Even 
though  married  he  had  some  rights.  The 
sacredness  of  his  own  personality  should 
not  be  invaded.  .  .  . 

Thus  we  behold  a  nice  little  pair,  well- 
mated  by  nature  for  nature's  purposes,  well 
equipped  by  inherent  characteristics  for  a 
civilized  union  which  might  be  beautiful 
to  them  and  beneficial  to  the  race,  now  being 
driven  toward  the  rocks  of  ruin  and  waste 
by  the  adventitious  characteristics  of  the 
modern  marriage.  It  was  not  because  they 
failed  to  believe  in  its  exactions;  they  be 
lieved  in  them  firmly.  It  was  not  due  to 
any  infraction  of  its  laws;  they  cherished 
them  fondly.  Marriage  itself  was  divorcing 
Fred  and  Molly.  What  God  had  joined  to 
gether  man  was  putting  asunder. 

Man  did  it,  of  course,  in  the  name  of  God, 
because  that  is  the  way  man  likes  to  do 
things.  But  how  it  must  amuse  the  great 
Humorist,  the  tender  Forgiver  of  our  sins! 


153 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

VIII 

That  is  "all  very  well  in  theory,  but  we  are 
practical."  Such  a  view  of  marriage  does 
not  excuse  this  young  man  in  our  shocked 
eyes  for  playing  with  other  men's  wives,  or 
ex-wives,  especially  now  when  recognized 
by  him  as  dangerous;  most  especially  while 
allowing  his  own  true  wife  to  trust  him. 
Some  of  our  conventions  may  be  absurd,  but 
we  must  have  grooves  for  running  an  un 
wieldy  society,  and  no  one  can  build  his  own 
without  consulting  society.  Ought  he  not 
to  leave  Muriel  ? 

Precisely  the  conclusion  he  came  to  with 
in  twenty-four  hours — without  even  waiting 
to  consult  Muriel  about  it.  Copy-book 
maxims  may  be  for  the  mob,  but  so,  it 
seems,  is  marriage.  He  had  married.  He 
must  dot  his  i's  and  cross  his  t's — or  leave 
the  class.  .  .  . 

He  found  that  her  presence  in  his  studio, 

now   that   her   portrait   was   finished,    had 

been  causing  a  little  gossip  in  other  studios. 

He  condemned  the  gossips  to  Hades.     He 

154 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

didn't  care  what  they  thought.  So  long  as 
his  conscience  was  clear,  why  should  he  ? 
But  it  was  so  unfair  to  Molly.  Her  coming 
to  the  studio  had  also  been  noted  and  men 
tioned,  humorously,  by  a  woman  who 
painted  in  the  same  building. 

"Oh,  cut  it  all  out,"  he  said  to  himself 
with  a  shrug  of  distaste  for  the  whole  ridic 
ulous  situation.  "It's  the  only  thing  to 
do."  Another  shrug. 

A  good  young  husband,  you  see;  he  was 
going  to  flee  temptation  and  thus  strengthen 
his  Character.  A  model  marriage;  neither 
business  nor  pleasure  should  stand  between 
him  and  Duty.  Perhaps  he  will  now  go 
home  to  his  lawful  wife,  confess  all,  and 
be  forgiven  in  a  tender  scene  of  domestic 
comedy:  "Darling,  I  have  been  a  brute." 
"No,  dearest,  it  was  all  my  fault,"  "But 
you  were  so  sweet  and  patient,  precious." 
"But  you  were  so  brave  and  strong,  sweet 
heart."  And  then  the  happy  pair  in  con 
cert  as  the  curtain  falls :  "  Hereafter  we  shall 
both  be  mutually  forbearing  and  considerate, 
patient  and  self-sacrificing";  thus  making  a 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

happy  marriage,  approved  by  society  and 
useful  to  civilization.  And  in  each  other's 
arms  their  senses  might  beguile  their  minds, 
for  the  time  being,  into  believing  that 
nothing  of  the  sort  could  ever  happen 
again,  and  that  this  was  true  love  and  true 
marriage.  At  any  rate,  it  would  be  truly 
legal  whether  truly  love  or  not,  and  so  we, 
the  spectators,  could  rejoice  at  the  triumph 
of  the  proprieties  and  go  back  to  our  happy 
homes  saying,  "  Yes,  it's  a  pretty  good  world 
-after  all!" 

Well,  that  would  not  be  such  a  bad  end 
ing,  if  we  could  only  believe  it  to  be  the 
end — if  only  the  curtain  would  stay  down 
— about  as  good  a  solution,  perhaps,  as  we 
should  expect  for  this  problem  of  nature's 
which  civilization  has  never  assimilated 
(and  probably  never  will  entirely),  and  so, 
being  sick  of  it,  declines,  with  an  invalid's 
inertia,  even  a  frank  attempt  to  assimilate 
it,  preferring  petulantly  to  swallow  it  whole 
like  a  pill,  with  a  sugar-coating  of  unwhole 
some  sentimentalism.  .  .  . 

But  that  was  not  to  be  the  end  in  this 
156 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

case.  Fred  did  not  go  home  and  confess. 
He  was  not  given  to  confessions — one  rea 
son,  perhaps,  being  that  he  was  too  con 
siderate.  It  would  not  be  nice  to  make  in 
sinuations  against  Muriel,  and  it  would  be 
a  shame  to  make  his  young  wife  realize  that 
she  had  a  brute  for  a  husband!  There  was 
nothing  worth  confessing.  He  simply  at 
tached  himself  to  his  wife  and  his  work,  and 
kept  out  of  Muriel's  reach  for  nearly  a  week 
after  the  precipitating  episode. 

They  happened  to  enter  the  studio  build 
ing  together.  They  went  up  in  the  ele 
vator  together.  "I  haven't  seen  you  for 
ages,"  she  said  with  gracious  conventionality, 
quite  as  if  nothing  had  happened — and  noth 
ing  had.  " Where  have  you  been  hiding?" 

He  smiled  at  her  phrase.  Hiding  ?  Did 
she  think  he  was  afraid  of  her  ?  She  did 
not  (as  yet).  "Oh,  Molly  and  I  have  been 
trotting  around  to  tea-fights,  drumming  up 
trade,"  he  answered  lightly,  but  feeling 
more  interest  in  her  nearness,  strangely 
enough,  even  more  admiration  for  her 
clothes,  than  usual.  They  stepped  out  of 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  elevator  together.  "My  wife  was  good 
enough  to  be  impressed  with  the  thing  I  did 
of  you.  So  she  is  trying  to  work  some  of 
her  friends — rather  disgusting,  but,  as  she 
says,  they  work  us  to  amuse  them,  so  why 
not?"  He  seemed  to  want  Muriel  to  ap 
preciate  that  his  wife  was  not  merely  a 
cunning  little  thing. 

"  Portraits,  you  mean  ? "  she  said  with 
sympathetic  interest.  "Have  you  landed 
any  sitters  ? " 

"No."  They  walked  down  the  corridor 
together.  "  I  seem  to  be  out  of  the  running." 

"I  think  I've  got  a  commission  for  you," 
she  said  with  simple  friendliness.  "May  I 
make  you  a  cup  of  tea  ? " 

"Thanks,  ever  so  much,"  said  the  painter 
briskly,  "but  I'm  horribly  busy." 

"Let  me  know  when  you've  finished  your 
work  and  I'll  tell  you  about  it." 

They  had  reached  her  door.  Fred  was 
unlocking  it  for  her.  He  began  to  chuckle. 
"I'm  thinking  of  barring  you  out  of  my 
studio  entirely,"  he  said  lightly.  "It's 
making  talk." 

158 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

She  turned^  and  looked  at  him.  He 
avoided  her  eyes.  "Fred,"  she  began,  "has 
your  wife " 

"No,"  he  interrupted  with  a  resentful 
sneer,  "she's  not  that  sort."  He  was 
amazed  at  Muriel. 

" — has  your  wife  Wednesdays  at  home, 
did  she  say?  You  silly!"  Muriel  laughed 
at  him.  "Of  course  she  is  not  that  sort. 
I  could  see  that — even  if  she  hadn't  asked 
me  to  call.  I  want  so  much  to  know  her 
well."  He  had  thrown  open  the  door  for 
her.  "You  won't  come  in?"  she  asked. 

"Thanks,  I'm  busy." 

She  did  not  urge  him,  but  within  the  open 
door  she  turned  and  smiled  at  him  again. 
"Are  you  one  of  those  amusing  little  men 
afraid  of  'What  will  people  say  ?'  ?" 

"I  wasn't  aware  of  being  afraid  of  any 
thing,"  he  remarked  with  dignity. 

She  walked  out  to  him  with  even  more 
dignity,  then  suddenly  shaking  her  head  un 
der  his  face,  " Booh!"  she  said  bewitchingly. 

He  laughed  with  her  at  himself,  flushing 
a  little. 

159 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

She  burlesqued  a  tragic  attitude.  "Are 
you  going  to  put  me  out  of  your  life  ? " 

"Sure!"  he  replied,  smiling  easily,  and 
stepped  across  to  his  own  door. 

"  How  exciting! "  called  out  Muriel,  laugh 
ing  gayly. 

He  pretended  not  to  hear. 

Both  doors  closed. 

Well,  at  least  he  wasn't  afraid  of  letting 
her  think  him  afraid,  if  she  wanted  to.  He 
was  glad  that  it  was  over.  And  he  kept 
away.  It  was  not  easy.  He  had  acquired 
the  habit,  like  smoking.  He  did  not  realize 
how  it  had  grown  upon  him  until  he  had 
to  break  it.  She  was  both  a  stimulant  and 
a  sedative.  He  missed  her  in  his  work. 
He  missed  her  in  his  play.  The  daily 
grind  had  begun  to  tell  at  last,  and  the 
need,  strong  in  natures  like  his,  for  fun, 
sparkle,  excitement,  was  storming  within 
him.  It  is  an  organic  need;  joyousness  is 
a  necessary  ingredient;  but  he  only  sub 
stituted  exercise  and  more  work  for  it.  He 
did  not  mind  hard  work.  He  had  always 

worked  hard,  just  as  he  had  always  played 

1 60 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

hard,  though  he  often  said,  after  the  man 
ner  of  fond  husbands,  "If  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  little  woman  I  never  would  have 
amounted  to  anything."  He  had  believed 
it  at  first.  He  still  repeated  it  occasionally. 
He  wanted  her  to  'believe  it,  every  one  to 
believe  it — including  himself. 

But  it  was  being  borne  in  upon  him  that 
he  was  amounting  to  very  little.  At  the 
present  rate,  how  could  he  ever  amount  to 
much?  It  was  all  right  to  give  up  fun, 
success,  everything  for  marriage.  He  had 
held  to  that  orthodox  tenet  of  the  faith. 
But  suppose  your  marriage  is  not  a  success. 
Why,  then  you  haven't  anything.  This 
made  it  hard  to  keep  the  faith. 

Marriage  was  beginning  to  look  like  a 
cage  to  him.  He  had  been. lured  in  by  the 
bait  of  love,  and  now,  having  devoured  the 
bait,  he  could  only  beat  his  wings  against 
the  bars  and  sigh  for  the  freedom  to  soar, 
which  he  had  not  valued  until  seen  through 
the  locked  door,  bruising  himself  and  pitying 
his  mate,  who  had  entered  gladly  with  him 
when  he  too  was  glad  and  both  were  blind. 

161 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Well,  self-pity  was  a  weakness  he  de 
spised.  He  shook  it  off,  and  dropped  in  at 
the  club  at  tea  hour,  substituting  cocktails, 
like  many  another  honest  fellow  whose 
marriage  was  not  turning  out  very  well, 
though  none  of  the  crowd  knew  nor  was 
curious. 

Alcohol  helped  a  little,  good-fellowship 
more.  Those  who  don't  like  their  cages, 
he  thought,  have  no  right  to  kick.  They 
can't  get  out  but  they  oughtn't  to  have  gone 
in.  You  may  be  blind  with  hunger,  but 
don't  eat  if  you  prefer  not  to  be  caught. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  that  precisely  was  the 
way  an  increasing  number  of  these  fellows 
one  met  at  clubs  seemed  to  look  at  it  now 
adays,  even  those  who  said  "You  lucky 
dog!"  sighing,  comfortably  by  the  broad 
fireplace,  which  was  not  made  of  asbestos 
at  the  club.  At  least,  they  did  not  satisfy 
their  soul-hunger  in  conventional  cages, 
viewed  and  approved  by  society!  It  was 
an  interesting  subject.  Carroll  was  learn 
ing  to  smile  at  it  with  good-humored  cyni 
cism,  like  the  rest.  Meanwhile  he  saw  no 
162 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

more  of  Muriel,  and  treated  his  wife  with 
polite  and  tender  devotion,  painfully  per 
plexed  at  her  continued,  but  now  appar 
ently  cheerful,  obliviousness  to  what  she 
had  discovered — only  a  week  or  two  ago, 
though  to  him  it  seemed  longer.  By  and 
by  his  wings  might  become  tired,  or  atro 
phied  by  disuse.  He  might  even  become 
habituated  to  his  well-furnished  cage.  That 
is  the  way  wild  birds  are  domesticated. 
Canaries  like  it.  ... 

But  such  worthy  intentions  as  Fred's  are 
not  like  swearing  off  tobacco  or  alcohol,  a 
matter  of  individual  will.  In  these  greater 
concerns  contending  wills  are  to  be  reckoned 
with.  He  had  not  reckoned  with  Muriel's, 
nor  with  Molly's  either,  as  we  shall  see  laten 
Muriel's  will  was  felt  first. 

Within  a  fortnight  after  making  his  well- 
kept  resolution  Fred  found,  one  morning 
in  his  studio,  a  note  addressed  in  her  dis 
tinguished  hand.  It  gave  him  a  thrill  which 
bade  him  beware.  "No,  you  don't,  you 
delightful  devil!"  he  laughed,  tearing  it 

open  eagerly  all  the  same. 

163 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

But  it  was  merely  to  inform  him  briefly 
that  an  acquaintance  of  hers  was  "dying 
to  have  her  neurasthenic  face  and  limp 
figure  painted  by  Frederic  Carroll.  She  is 
coming  to  have  luncheon  with  me  to-day. 
Drop  in  at  half  after  one  and  see  if  she 
interests  you  enough.  She  is  vulgarly  rich, 
and  I  think  it  may  lead  to  other  com 
missions."  "  Neurasthenic  "  was  the  word 
just  then;  it's  old-fashioned  now. 

"Oh,  she'll  interest  me  all  right,"  laughed 
Fred.  This  was  a  chance  he  could  not 
afford  to  miss.  Hope  of  amounting  to  some 
thing  revived.  He  could  put  his  heart  into 
the  work  he  loved.  He  could  become  wholly 
absorbed,  oblivious  to  all  other  passions. 
This  endless  succession  of  carefully  done 
pot-boilers  occupied  only  as  much  of  him  as 
"fancy-work"  exacted  of  a  certain  type  of 
old-fashioned  wife,  not  yet  extinct.  He 
went  to  the  meeting  eagerly,  hardly  thinking 
now,  the  predatory  male,  of  Muriel. 

He  did  not  think  of  Muriel  until  he  ar 
rived  there.  Then  he  thought  of  nothing 
else.  She  was  alone.  The  neurasthenic 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

friend  had  sent  word  "at  the  last  moment" 
that  the  pleasure  would  have  to  be  post 
poned.  So  Muriel  told  him.  "And  I  have 
such  a  good  luncheon  waiting,  too!"  she 
said  with  apparent  annoyance.  "But  no 
matter.  I  can  coach  you  to  handle  her 
vanity  better  before  you  meet  her,"  laughed 
Muriel,  leading  the  way.  "Your  sitter  will 
keep,  even  if  my  luncheon  won't." 

And  she  proceeded  at  once,  as  they  sat 
down  opposite  each  other,  to  tell  him  inter 
estingly  all  about  her  neurasthenic  friend. 
The  friend  was  bona  fide;  so  was  the  desire 
to  have  Fred  paint  her.  She  had  been  fas 
cinated  by  the  dashing  portrait  of  the  stun 
ning  Mrs.  Vincent,  now  in  the  latter's  pos 
session,  and  by  the  subject's  enthusiasm 
over  his  work.  Fred  was  delighted  and 
grateful.  Ambition  soared  for  the  moment; 
fame  looked  down  and  smiled  from  afar. 

And  if  the  resilient  artist  nature  now  ex 
panded  until  quite  capable  of  compassing 
the  world,  the  moral  nature  of  the  man  was 
generous  enough  to  give  just  credit  to  this 
old  friend  of  his  youth!  What  a  good  sort 
165 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

she  was,  such  a  woman  of  the  world,  so 
serene  and  superior  to  any  pouting  pique 
over  his  rude  neglect  of  her.  He  thought 
he  had  known  her  all  his  life;  but  he  felt 
that  he  really  knew  her  now  for  the  first 
time.  And,  as  is  usually  the  case  when  one 
suddenly  "  discovers  "  a  member  of  the  op 
posite  sex,  there  came  with  it  a  delicious 
thrill  of  amazement.  "Why  didn't  I  appre 
ciate  this  girl  long  ago!  "  he  said  to  himself, 
meaning  "before  too  late!"  though  he 
would  not  say  that — even  to  himself. 

Also,  the  luncheon  was  delicious.  But 
somehow  or  other  he  became  ill  at  ease 
during  the  intimate  process.  He  had 
never  felt  embarrassed  with  Muriel  before. 
He  had  lunched  with  her  often;  there  was 
nothing  in  that;  but  not  since  the  new  and 
unhealthy  complexion  put  upon  their  inno 
cent  relations  by  Molly's  innocent  visit  to 
her  husband's  studio  and  by  her  husband's 
innocent  refusal  to  discuss  it  or  make  a 
mountain  out  of  a  mole-hill.  The  fact  that 
it  was  forbidden  now  to  be  lunching  alone 
with  Muriel  made  it  conscious,  delectable, 
166 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

dangerous.  All  the  past  years  of  indiffer 
ence  were  betraying  him.  He  had  to  hold 
himself  in  check.  He  had  to  do  some  more 
of  that  detestable  thinking  about  himself. 
Such  a  nuisance  to  be  married!  Could  he 
never  be  natural  without  being  wrong  ? 

He  expanded  a  little  over  the  coffee — as 
she  had  known  he  would.  Muriel  had  never 
tried  very  hard  to  charm  him  before.  She 
was  trying  to  do  so  now,  just  to  see  what 
would  happen.  She  was  no  longer  the 
crude  enthusiast  he  had  once  known  and 
patronized.  Nor  had  she  forgotten  his 
wife's  superior  look  of  disdain.  Muriel  had 
laughed  good-naturedly,  but,  it  may  be 
recalled,  she  had  lightly  taken  up  the  little 
gauntlet.  Why  not  ? 

Fred  gravely,  authoritatively,  commended 
her  expert  knowledge  of  the  civilized  art  of 
eating. 

"Oh,  it's  always  a  pleasure  to  feed  'em," 
said  Muriel  with  a  daintily  derisive  smile, 
as  if  trying  to  say  it  as  grossly  as  she  could, 
"especially  men  who  appreciate  the  good 
things  of  life.  You  don't  give  me  a  chance 
167 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

as  often  as  some  of  the  others  do,"  she 
added  languidly,  to  remind  him  that  there 
were  others.  She  played  with  the  fact  for 
a  moment — her  first  arrow.  It  glanced  off 
harmlessly.  It  did  not  disturb  him  in  the 
least;  it  repelled  him  rather.  She  recalled 
that  he  had  always  been  perversely  insen 
sible  to  jealousy.  It  was  part  of  the  same 
innate  fastidiousness  which  had  kept  him 
out  of  more  mischief  in  his  youth  than  had 
stern  moral  warnings,  making  hideous  vice 
sound  more  attractive  than  it  could  ever 
really  hope  to  be. 

"  But  then,  to  be  sure,"  she  began  afresh, 
"you  have  put  me  out  of  your  life,  haven't 
you,  Fred?"  She  laughed  idly.  She  knew 
how  to  laugh.  So  few  women  do;  even 
those  who  don't  gurgle  or  cackle.  "How 
have  you  enjoyed  keeping  my  baneful  influ 
ence  out  of  your  life?  Have  you  grown 
'strong'  now  ?" 

She  was  making  it  all  playful  and  easy. 
"Oh,  I've  tried  hard  to  bear  up  without  you 
— in  my  life,"  he  said,  adopting  her  note. 
He  no  longer  had  the  upper  hand.  "I've 

168 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

really  been  too  horribly  busy  to  play  with 
you  or  any  one  else,"  he  added  indifferently. 
"I  see.  I  wondered  what  was  the  rea 
son."  She  shot  a  merry,  good-natured 
glance  across  at  him  from  between  her  two 
long,  well-modelled,  rather  heavily  jewelled 
hands  which  framed  her  face  as  she  sat 
there  closely  opposite  to  him,  her  elbows 
resting  indolently  on  the  table.  It  was 
studied  indolence,  and  he  knew  it.  But 
she  did  it  so  well!  She  was  so  confoundedly 
stunning,  and  so  confoundedly  aware  of  it. 
He  earnestly  intended  to  dislike  her  who 
was  now  forbidden,  as  earnestly  as  he  in 
tended  to  love  his  wife,  who  was  required. 
But  a  man  cannot  will  himself  to  do  either 
of  these  things.  It  was  only  producing  op 
posite  results,  alas!  He  wanted  to  dis 
arrange  her  studied  pose.  The  way  he  de 
sired  to  do  it  was  by  crumpling  it  up  in  his 
arms,  and  bringing  a  new  light  into  her 
mocking  eyes.  Dear  me!  he  wouldn't  do 
that!  What  shocking  impulses  pop  into 
the  heads  of  even  the  best  of  the  stronger 
sex  at  times.  Possibly  their  generous  self- 
169 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

restraint  is  not  fully  appreciated  by  the 
weaker  sex.  Fred  merely  watched  her  cau 
tiously  as  she  rippled  to  another  interesting 
pose;  one  arm  down  now,  hand  extended 
to  caress  her  coffee  cup,  while  one  of  the 
long,  pear-shaped  ear-rings,  flicked  by  a 
tinkling  ring  in  passing,  swung  back  and 
forth  for  a  moment,  flashing  high  lights. 
"Was  that  the  only  reason  you  avoided 
me  ? "  she  asked  smiling — not  alluringly, 
but,  confound  her  again,  with  humorous 
candor.  Her  woman-of-the-world  poise  was 
disconcerting.  He  had  forgotten  how  to 
meet  it  of  late  years.  That's  the  trouble 
with  neglecting  an  art. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  replied  brusquely,  trying 
for  the  upper  hand,  as  formerly;  "I  don't 
care  to  know  any  one  too  well — not  even 
my  beloved  self!"  He  made  a  significant 
grimace.  "Sometimes,  you  know,  you  bore 
me  dreadfully,  Muriel  dear."  The  bully 
ing  note  was  safest  He  felt  superior  again. 

"Is  this  one  of  the  times  ?" 

He  nodded.     "Especially  when  you  smile 

that  way."     He  laughed  at  her. 

170 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

She  kept  on  smiling  "that  way"  without 
the  movement  of  an  eyelash  until  his  more 
or  less  critical  gaze  shifted,  which  made  her 
laugh  at  him,  although  he  was  merely  look 
ing  for  a  place  to  drop  his  cigarette  ashes, 
as  he  made  clear  by  his  silently  ostentatious 
action. 

Now,  Muriel  was  not  a  cruel  siren.  She 
had  a  big  ego,  but  a  big  heart  too;  they 
often  go  together,  though  they  sometimes  get 
in  each  other's  way.  She  played  her  game 
fairly,  whenever  she  could;  she  shot  only 
on  the  wing;  as  fairly  as  her  game  can  be 
played.  If,  for  example,  he  had  let  her 
know,  humbly  or  humorously,  why  he  had 
kept  so  sedulously  out  of  her  now  disturbing 
presence,  if  he  had  acknowledged  that  he 
was  licked  and  had  begged  for  mercy — as 
was  often  done  by  young  men,  and  older 
ones  who  wanted  to  feel  young;  but  who 
can  blame  any  man,  a  member  of  the 
stronger  sex,  the  natural  leaders,  for  not 
caring  to  acknowledge  that  to  an  old  friend! 
Especially  idealists  like  Fred,  who  hate  the 

truth  and  yet  are  not  cowards,  never  asking 
171 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

quarter  from  others  or  from  themselves. 
Moreover,  in  this  case  there  was  that  well- 
cherished  loyalty  to  his  precious,  if  not 
perfect,  wife.  Such  a  confession  to  Muriel 
would  have  been  a  reflection  upon  Molly's 
charm,  an  enormity  intolerable  to  contem 
plate.  All  of  which  goes  to  prove  how  im 
possible  it  is  to  love  two  women  at  the  same 
time  and  yet  keep  faith  with  both  and  with 
one's  self,  even  in  these  innocent  preludes 
to  the  grand  symphony.  True  love  is  mo 
nogamous,  whatever  marriage  may  be. 

He  turned  his  eyes  away  from  her.  She 
was  too  artificial.  He  looked  again;  she 
was  too  attractive.  "It  never  occurs  to 
you,"  he  went  on,  overworking  the  bully 
attitude,  "that  I  see  through  your  poses,  my 
dear  Muriel.  Why  don't  you  let  go  and  be 
natural  for  a  change  ? — just  once,  to  see  how 
it  feels." 

"Why  should  I,"  she  returned  imper- 
turbably,  "when  you  are  admiring  me  so 
much  this  way?"  She  did  not  change  the 
pose  of  a  finger. 

"Perfectly  shameless!"  he  railed  at  her, 

172 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

avoiding  her  gaze;  "utterly  abandoned! 
You  always  have  made  me  rather  tired, 
you  know." 

He  looked  about  the  room  indifferently, 
sniffed  expertly  at  her  dark,  heavy  hangings, 
trying  to  make  it  all  sound  like  the  gay 
banter  of  former  days. 

She  made  no  reply.  It  was  not  necessary. 
She  was  quietly  letting  him  entangle  himself. 
She  sensed  what  was  going  on  within  him, 
fully  now,  and  she  responded  to  it  with  the 
glow  and  glory  a  woman  knows  when  she 
first  feels  her  power  over  a  member  of  the 
stronger  sex.  The  gentlest,  the  kindest  are 
likely  to  enjoy  it,  even,  it  is  said,  when  they 
don't  respond — differing  therein  from  most 
men;  the  brutes  don't  enjoy  being  wanted 
by  those  they  don't  want!  The  new  light 
had  come  into  Muriel's  feminine  eyes  with 
out  the  aid  of  Fred's  manly  arms. 

Feeling  her  silence,  hoping  he  had  not 
gone   too   far,    he   turned   to  her  uneasily 
Her  quiet  gaze  had  not  left  his  face.     Her 
eyes,  half-smiling,  fully  comprehending,  and 
altogether  gorgeous,  put  him  in  a  sudden 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

panic.  He  arose  abruptly.  "Well,  this 
isn't  turning  out  pot-boilers,  is  it?"  he 
said  in  a  brisk,  business-like  manner.  "  I've 
got  a  model  waiting — an  expensive  one. 
Have  to  pay  him  whether  I'm  there  or  not, 
you  know.  Thanks  for  the  good  feed." 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  holding  out  his 
other  hand  to  say  good-by,  preparing  him 
self  for  the  contact. 

She  did  not  take  his  hand,  but  a  light, 
detaining  touch  fell  upon  his  arm.  It  made 
him  catch  his  breath  and  recoil,  tingling. 
He  was  not  prepared  for  that.  "I'd  so  like 
to  pull  you  out  of  that  drudgery,"  she  said 
with  simple  friendliness — and  she  meant  it 
too.  She  did  not  increase  the  pressure  on 
his  tense  muscular  arm.  But  she  felt  it 
quiver.  "I  have  still  another  possible  com 
mission  for  you."  With  her  other  hand  she 
motioned  him  to  his  chair.  "May  I  tell 
you  about  it  ?" 

He  looked  at  the  hand  on  his  arm.    She 

withdrew  it.     "Still  another  job,  eh  ?     You 

are  something  of  a  corker,"  he  said  with 

grateful  admiration  in  his  voice.     But  he 

174 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

remained  standing.  "Let  me  know  when 
you  land  it,  will  you,  please?"  He  turned 
to  go. 

"No!"  she  flung  out. 

He  turned  in  surprise  at  her  tone. 

"Why  should  I?"  she  asked. 

She  had  arisen,  but  she  did  not  come  near 
him.  She  sensed  the  delicacy  within  his 
physical  bigness,  just  as  she  appraised  the 
tenderness  that  lay  unawakened  beneath 
his  assumed  blatancy.  It  made  him  diffi 
cult,  but  therefore  delectable.  Once  taken 
into  camp — what  a  dear  lover  !  Muriel  had 
never  experienced  much  kind  considera 
tion  in  her  experiments;  perhaps  she  de 
served  a  little.  She  turned  and  looked  out 
of  the  window.  "I  am  anxious  to  help  you 
win  out,  of  course,"  she  said  with  friendly 
dignity,  "but,  Fred,  I  really  can't  say  I 
enjoy  being  snubbed  every  time  we  meet." 
She  looked  hurt,  her  pride  offended. 

"Snubbed!" 

" '  Let  me  know  when  you  land  it. ' :  She 
imitated  his  brusque  tone  and  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

He  was  amazed  and  concerned.  "But  I 
only  meant — oh,  I  explained  all  that  before. 
Surely  you  understand." 

"I  understand  perfectly!  You  are  tired 
of  having  me  around,  so  you  use  the  worn 
out,  cowardly  pretext  that  it  is  making 
talk — as  if  you  and  I  cared!" 

"But  it  is  making  talk.  I  do  have  to 
consider  such  things,  even  if  you  don't." 

"Yet  you  never  come  to  see  me  here, 
where  there  need  be  no  one  to  talk — no 
gossiping  models  to  bear  tales  to  other 
studios." 

"Why,  Muriel!  you  mustn't  misunder 
stand  things  in  that  way!  But  I  mustn't 
come  here,  I  simply  mustn't — and  I  won't; 
that's  all."  He  turned  to  go. 

"Why?" 

He  had  no  answer.  "Oh,  this  is  so  un 
fair!"  he  broke  out  with  a  sweet  appeal  in 
his  distressed  eyes  which  thrilled  her. 

"Now  don't  pretend,"  she  chided,  coming 
nearer,  "that's  it's  because  you're  afraid  of 


me. 
a 


Who  said  I  was?"     The  stronger  sex 

176 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

snowed  its  courage  by  drawing  back  a  little 
from  her  advance. 

"You've  made  that  abundantly  clear," 
she  went  on.  :<  You've  done  nothing  but 
laugh  at  me,  jeer  at  me,  calling  me  a  poseuse  ! 
Oh,  you've  shown  me  what  you  think  of 
me!" 

"Why,  Muriel!  You  know  we've  always 
slammed  each  other.  You  mustn't  take  it 
seriously,  Muriel,  dear." 

She  hesitated,  uncertain  what  arrow  to 
shoot  next. 

"  I'll  admit  that  I  tried  to  have  a  little  fun 
with  you,"  she  said,  dropping  her  eyes. 
"I  couldn't  help  trying  to  upset  your  stat 
uesque  calm.  You  don't  think  very  badly 
of  me  for  that,  do  you,  Fred  ?"  She  looked 
up  and  smiled — almost  timidly. 

"No,  of  course  not."  He  laughed  gently 
at  her.  "  But  you  see,  my  dear,  you  can't 
do  it.  Not  with  me." 

"I  do  see  it  now,"  she  answered,  nodding 

with  engaging  humor.     "I  underestimated 

you.     You  were  too  much  for  me."     She 

made  a  despairing  gesture.    "The  joke  is  on 

177 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

me — again!"  This  time  when  she  took  a 
step  toward  him  the  stronger  sex  stood  its 
ground.  "Fred,  ever  since  I  was  a  little 
romantic  fool  of  an  impressionable  girl  you 
have  been  a  sort  of  hero  to  me.  I  suppose 
you  know  that." 

This  arrow  did  not  pierce  his  armor,  but 
it  served  to  make  him  throw  it  off,  feeling 
safe.  "Let's  not  talk  rot,  Muriel,  dear. 
We're  too  old."  He  turned  to  leave. 

"Oh,"  she  burst  out,  "I  don't  mind  your 
using  me  for  your  own  interests!  I'm  only 
too  glad  to  slave  for  you,  if  it  will  help  you 
in  your  career.  I  want  you  to  have  success, 
to  have  everything;  but  then  to  have  you 
despise  and  hate  me  for  it!"  She  stopped 
abruptly,  with  something  like  a  sob.  Her 
dewy  eyes  gazed  at  him,  her  tender  mouth 
drooped  pathetically.  "It's  a  little  too 
much."  She  seemed  to  attempt  a  whimsi 
cal  smile,  as  if  bravely  determined  not  to 
make  a  scene,  but  bowed  her  beautiful  head 
and  turned  away  as  if  defeated,  he  after  her. 

For  it  was  a  little  too  much  for  Fred  too. 

"You  don't  think  that  of  me!"    he  burst 

178 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

out  in  a  panic,  amazed  at  the  indictment, 
his  tenderest,  his  best  sentiments  now 
aroused.  "  You've  been  a  brick!  I've  been 
a  brute!" 

"You  have  always  despised  me/'  she 
sobbed.  "You  despise  me  now!" 

"I  don't!"   he  cried,  frantic. 

"You  do!     I  can  feel  it." 

"You  can't — you  mustn't!" 

She  now  retreated,  he  advanced. 

She  stopped  and  raised  her  brimming 
eyes  to  his  as  if  to  speak,  but  only  broke 
down  and  wept  beautifully — a  most  diffi 
cult  thing  to  do.  This  arrow  found  the 
vulnerable  spot,  pierced  him,  transfixed  him 
quivering. 

"You  poor  little  thing!"  he  cried  in  a 
richer,  warmer  voice  than  she  had  ever 
called  forth  before,  and  then  at  last  she 
felt  herself  gently  seized.  A  capable  arm 
enfolded  her  pliant  shoulders,  and  as  she 
struggled  (with  such  futile  feminine  might!) 
to  be  free  of  him,  another  strong  arm  im 
prisoned  her  gloriously.  She  heard  soft 

murmurings.     Her  head   sank   (helplessly) 

179 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

upon  his  goodly  shoulder,  settled  there,  and 
now  ceased  to  struggle  like  a  captured  bird. 
And  then,  with  her  cool  hands  upon  his 
hot  face,  as  she  raised  her  eyes  and  lips  to 
meet  his  frankly,  he  stopped — of  all  places 
to  stop!  "What  are  we  doing!"  he  gasped, 
atremble.  He  released  her  as  suddenly  as 
he  had  seized  her.  "I'm  so  sorry!"  he  fal 
tered,  and  turning,  he  stumbled  out  of  the 
room,  slamming  the  door.  (She  should  not 
have  ceased  so  soon  to  struggle  with  this 
predatory  male.) 

Was  he  sorry  for  this  "poor  little  thing," 
who  thought  he  despised  her  ?  Or,  for  the 
other  poor  little  thing  who  thought  he  loved 
her.  Perhaps  he  was  sorry  for  both  poor 
little  things  at  once.  Even  if  the  stronger 
sex  can  not  love  two  women  at  once  surely 
there  can  be  pity  for  more  than  one.  The 
kinship  may  be  distant  enough  for  that. 

Muriel  listened  a  moment  to  make  sure 
whether  he  was  coming  back  (as  they  some 
times  did  at  once)  then  catching  a  glimpse 
of  her  excited  face  in  the  mirror,  she  began 
to  rearrange  her  beautiful  and  expensive  hair. 
1 80 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Naughty,  naughty!"  she  said  shaking 
her  head  at  the  self-revelation  in  the  glass. 
"That  was  so  unfair!  But  he  deserved  it, 
the  darling,  and  it  will  do  him  good." 

Perhaps,  though  this  is  hardly  a  proper 
thought,  it  would  have  done  him  more  good 
if  he  had  kissed  her  and  made  a  clean  job 
of  it.  Still,  it  does  not  always  turn  out  that 
way.  .  .  . 

"Why,  I  do  believe,"  she  went  on,  more  ex 
citedly  now,  though  applying  powder  where 
it  was  needed,  "he  ran  away  in  order  to 
spare  me!  Oh,  the  dear  lamb!  the  sweet 
boy!  the  chivalric  gentleman!  He  wished 
to  spare  me!" 

But  it  made  her  love  him.  And  somehow 
it  made  her  blush.  She  saw  the  blush  in 
the  mirror.  She  was  touched  to  find  that 
she  could  still  blush.  She  loved  herself  for 
it,  and  loved  him  more  than  ever.  She 
would  do  much  for  him — after  he  stopped 
running  away.  Tears  came  to  her  eyes. 
She  had  few  illusions  about  herself;  she 
feared  that  she  would  make  him  miserable, 
but  she  felt  that  she  could  make  him  suc- 
181 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ceed.  Such  men  need  a  woman  for  the 
purpose.  And  this  one  was  not  at  present 
delivering  lectures  to  ornamental  slaves  upon 
Economic  Independence.  The  immemorial 
habit  of  the  sex  still  persists  even  in  the  most 
advanced  examples  of  the  new  woman. 
Muriel  broke  down  and  sobbed  like  an  old- 
fashioned  one. 

Meanwhile  Fred,  forgetting  the  expensive 
model  waiting  in  his  studio,  was  gulping 
down  deep  breaths  of  cool,  outside  air,  as 
he  strode  powerfully  up  the  street  toward 
home,  his  heart  still  clanging  and  echoing 
within  him,  like  a  fire-engine  returning  from 
a  hard-won  victory  with  the  devastating 
elements. 

He  was  still  blinded  from  the  smoke,  con 
fused  by  the  clamor.  He  did  not  know  how 
it  had  all  happened.  He  only  knew  that 
he  loved  her  now,  that  he  must  have  her; 
only  that  and,  incidentally — he  must  not! 
"This  thing  cannot  go  on  this  way!  I 
can't  keep  it  up."  The  maddening  per 
fume  of  her  hair  still  called  to  him  insist 
ently;  the  sting  of  her  soft,  scented  hands 
182 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

still  tingled  his  hot  cheeks.  He  bit  his  lip 
till  it  bled. 

Well,  hadn't  he  won  the  preliminary 
skirmish  with  distinguished  bravery  ?  He 
might  have  plumed  himself  on  that.  He  did 
not.  There  was  that  in  him  which  sang 
paeans  of  victory  for  the  vanquished  side. 
It  was  the  conqueror — and  it  was  the  more 
relentless  for  the  temporary  check.  He  was 
struggling  against  something  stronger  than 
he  was.  He  wanted  her;  she  wanted  him. 
That  supreme  fact  stood  its  ground,  jubi 
lant,  exalted,  god-like. 

He  had  kept  out  of  her  way;  what  good 
had  that  done  ?  She  was  too  near,  too 
dear.  She  was  now  involved  in  his  work, 
in  his  life.  Calls  had  been  made  at  his 
home  and  returned  at  hers — a  blinding 
thought.  He  lengthened  his  stride,  as  if  to 
run  away  from  it.  It  kept  pace  with  him, 
like  his  shadow.  He  was  headed  for 
"home."  So  was  it. 

Well,  since  he  now  knew  what  manner  of 
man  he  was,  why  not  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it,  let  his  wife  know,  too,  what  manner  of 
183 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

man  he  was  ?  She  ought  to  know.  Why 
wait,  like  a  weakling,  until  in  honor  bound 
to  tell  ?  Perhaps  she  would  help  him  pre 
vent  what  he  dreaded  terribly — and  desired 
terrifically. 

Could  he  keep  Muriel's  name  out  of  it  ? 
She  had  not  requested  him  to  confess  for 
her!  But  even  so,  it  would  involve — why, 
it  involved  the  whole  world,  apparently  ! 
These  things  cannot  be  individual  affairs, 
not  in  gregarious  existence. 

The  thought  of  deliberately  informing  his 
wife  in  cold  blood — comparatively  cold — 
was  unspeakably  difficult.  But  it  would 
have  to  be  a  choice  of  evils  in  any  case. 
He  had  heard  of  such  methods  of  honorable 
procedure.  The  straight  decency  of  it  had 
always  appealed  to  him.  And  to  Molly. 
They  had  discussed  such  possibilities,  of 
course,  like  all  true  lovers,  in  the  simple 
days  when  he  was  a  true  lover. 

But  what  would  be  the  result  ?     He  knew 

her  fine  feelings,  her  pride.     Naturally,  she 

would  not  wait  for  the   end.     She  would 

pack  up  and  leave,  like  the  high-minded, 

184 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

high-spirited  girl  he  admired.  He  should 
not  expect  nor  want  her  to  remain.  The 
scandal  among  their  friends  and  families  he 
did  not  dwell  upon;  mere  outward  respect 
ability  was  an  empty  shell,  too  unimportant 
to  be  considered  by  those  who,  like  Molly 
and  himself,  placed  decency  above  decorum. 
But  suddenly  he  stopped  short  in  his 
stride  toward  home  and  this  honorable  plan 
to  destroy  it.  What  would  become  of  her  ? 
She  had  nothing  to  substitute  for  what  he 
was  destroying.  It  was  so  ordained  for 
old-fashioned  wives.  She  was  dependent 
upon  him  for  her  status  in  life.  She  had 
no  other  reason  for  existence;  nor  even  any 
independent  means  of  existence,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  practical,  every-day  fact!  She  was 
"just  a  wife."  In  effect  he  would  be  turn 
ing  her  out  of  her  home,  her  sphere,  sending 
her  back  to  her  father's  care  (some  of  them 
haven't  even  that  refuge)  in  order  that  he 
might  pursue  the  woman  and  the  work  of 
his  choice  without  let  or  hinderance!  The 
honorable  plan  suddenly  took  on  an  aspect 
so  dishonorable  that  he  wondered  how  such 
185 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

a  caddish  thought  had  dared  enter  his  con 
fused  mind.  He  stumbled  on  mechanically, 
instinctively  perhaps,  toward  his  home. 

There  seemed  no  decent  way  to  be  honest, 
no  honest  way  to  be  decent.  .  .  . 

And  that  is  how  some  such  nice,  respect 
able  men  with  high  ideals  learn  in  time  to 
deceive  their  waiting  wives — and  even  the 
suspicious  world. 

"  It's  this  foolish  little  habit  of  confessing 
that  causes  most  of  the  trouble  in  married 
life.  It  is  so  cruel  to  confess."  That  had 
been  tossed  out  once  while  he  was  painting, 
and  scarcely  listening,  by  Muriel  smiling 
idly. 

IX 

Alas,  for  the  romance  of  passion  and 
tragedy!  Just  when  the  stage  is  set  for  it, 
with  dim  lights  and  low  music,  some  bun 
gling  player  misses  his  cue,  spoils  the  oft- 
rehearsed  effect,  and  changes  the  atmos 
phere  to  plain  human  comedy,  justly  ab 
horred  by  those  sentimentalists  who  call 
themselves  idealists.  They  may  be  good 

186 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

themselves,  but  they  derive  delight  from 
observing  the  badness  of  others.  Well,  it 
is,  indeed,  an  interesting  business,  the  most 
interesting  in  the  world,  since  it  gives  a 
dramatic  twist  to  what  is  already  interesting 
enough  inasmuch  as  it  accounts  for  our 
being  in  the  world.  But  they  don't  fancy 
the  tempo  or  matter-of-factness  of  comedy. 
Even  farce  is  preferred  by  many  of  them, 
it  being  pleasantly  unreal,  as  a  rule,  and 
moving  with  a  tickling  rapidity  which  pre 
vents  thinking.  Provided,  of  course,  the 
farce  be  not  vulgar. 

The  lonely,  lovely,  long-suffering  leading 
lady  was  the  one  to  miss  her  cue  in  this 
piece.  She  happened  to  be  at  home  when 
her  good  man  came  in.  It  was  too  early  to 
be  busy  with  teas  and  such  work.  "Why, 
Fred  dear,  you  have  cut  your  lip!  How 
did  it  happen  ?" 

He  caught  his  breath,  making  a  rasping 
sound,  as  of  one  in  great  agony. 

"Oh,  you  poor  child!  how  it  pains  you!" 
and  she  insisted  upon  bathing  it  with  warm 

water  and  boric  acid — to  prevent  dangerous 

187 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

infection — although  he  tried  to  run  away 
and  vowed  that  it  did  not  hurt  at  all,  and 
begged  her  not  to  be  concerned  on  his 
account.  It  was  such  a  little  thing — a  mere 
scratch.  The  Carrolls  always  belittled 
their  ailments  to  others,  and  "  hated  a  fuss." 
There  was  no  real  damage  done,  he  declared. 

Yet  she  made  a  fuss,  and  filled  the  wifely 
function  tenderly. 

The  hard  walk  home  in  the  out-door 
breeze  had  aired  his  manly  shoulders  (fortu 
nately),  where  Muriel's  scented  hair  had 
rested.  But  it  had  not  aired  his  mind.  It 
was  hardly  a  clear  or  a  happy  mind  now. 
The  civilized  instincts  are  so  inconvenient. 
The  tender  yearning  pity  he  now  felt  for 
his  wife,  along  with  self-reproach  beyond 
expression,  surely  was  akin  to  love!  Still 
the  fact  remains,  that  running  down  and 
severely  bruising  a  deserving  but  distant  kin 
of  the  opposite  sex  while  driving  your  own 
car  does  not  necessarily  constitute  a  suf 
ficient  basis  for  a  boundless  passion,  or  even 
a  successful  marriage.  Merely  for  bound 
less  remorse — and  perhaps  an  unsuccess- 

188 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

ful  marriage.  Love  cannot  be  given  for 
value  received.  Love  is  not  moral  nor  im 
moral.  It  is  unmoral. 

Man,  however,  is  moral.  "  I've  just  been 
lunching  with  Muriel  Vincent,"  he  began 
boldly.  Was  it  coming  ?— or  was  he  merely 
to  make  a  compromise  with  his  conscience  ? 
That  sometimes  helps  wonderfully,  as  for 
instance  when  they  say,  "If  you  only  knew 
how  unworthy  I  am!"  and  then  pass  it  off 
with  a  few  vague  generalizations. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  time  ? "  There 
was  nothing  to  learn  from  her  tone,  what 
ever  she  may  have  gathered  from  his.  She 
and  Muriel  had  this  much  in  common,  they 
both  belonged  to  the  weaker  sex. 

"She's  secured  me  a  commission  to  do  a 
portrait.  She — she's  very  kind  and  inter 
ested." 

"A  portrait!  I'm  so  glad."  And  Mrs. 
Carroll  added:  "That's  splendid.  Did  I 
tell  you  I  had  gone  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Vin 
cent?" 

"She  told  me."  There  was  a  little  pause. 
"The  fact  is,  you've  never  mentioned  her  at 

i8g 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

all,  you  know — except  once  to  speak  of 
portraits — since  you  met  her  in  the  studio 
that  day.  You  remember?" 

It  appeared  that  Molly  remembered. 
"  But  neither  have  you,  Fred." 

There  was  another  pause.  (Hold  the 
picture.  Count  five.)  Each  was  waiting 
for  the  other.  She  had  her  reasons  for 
making  him  take  the  cue.  She  was  stage 
manager  as  well  as  leading  lady  in  this 
play.  She  had  constructed  some  such  scene 
as  this  for  days,  not  to  speak  of  long  nights; 
but  comedy  is  delicate  work  and  she  had 
waited.  She  was  still  waiting. 

"  By  the  by,  Molly,  you  and  I  don't  look 
at  these  things  in  the  stupid  way  of  some 
people,  I  hope." 

She  had  found  out  what  she  wanted — 
not  all,  but  enough.  She  took  her  cue  now, 
and  her  answer  surprised  him,  but  her 
matter-of-fact  manner  surprised  him  more. 
"Of  course  not,"  said  Molly  blithely.  "A 
man  should  feel  that  he  can  have  all  the 
friends  he  wants — even  though  he  does  hap 
pen  to  be  married."  Then,  laughing  to 
190 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

cover  a  quaking  heart,  "Fred,  you  don't 
suppose  I  could  suspect  you  of  anything 
wrong!  I  know  you  too  well.  Though  I 
may  as  well  confess,"  and  here  she  made  a 
girlish  grimace,  "I  am  horribly  jealous. 
Your  Muriel  is  wonderful.  You  must  cul 
tivate  her.  She  is  coming  to  dinner  next 
Thursday."  For  Molly  herself,  it  seems, 
had  also  been  cultivating  her.  And  then 
Molly,  not  Fred,  changed  the  subject  gayly. 

Muriel  came  to  dinner,  and  smiled  as  she 
drove  home.  This,  she  thought,  was  merely 
a  blind  from  which  to  watch  the  poaching, 
an  old  device,  often  employed  by  conven 
tional  little  things.  It  made  the  game  more 
difficult,  but  more  interesting. 

But  for  a  conventional  little  thing  Molly 
began  throwing  these  two  together  a  great 
deal,  and  was  keeping  most  obligingly  out 
of  the  way.  "Fred  hates  to  have  me 
around,"  laughed  Molly,  "when  he  talks  to 
women.  Threesomes  are  always  such  a 
bore — don't  you  find  them  so  ? "  Mean 
while,  she  was  telling  Fred  that  he  must 
see  more  of  Muriel.  "It  will  do  you  good," 
191 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

she  urged  with  most  engaging  candor. 
"You  have  tried  to  be  a  stolid  husband. 
The  pose  does  not  suit  you,  my  dear.  Let 
go  and  be  yourself.  '  Express  your  own 
individuality/  as  Muriel  calls  it;  'live  your 
own  life/'  Molly's  gift  of  mimicry  at  this 
point  made  Fred  blush,  though  why  should 
he  blush  for  Muriel  ? 

"Another  thing,  Fred,"  his  wife  added 
wisely,  "hereafter  I  want  you  to  dine  at  the 
club  once  a  week.  You  are  getting  out  of 
touch  with  your  friends.  You  need  it  in 
your  business.  Oh,  don't  worry  about  me. 
I  need  it  too.  I'll  dine  at  my  club,  or  with 
my  brother.  Don't  you  think  it's  bad  for 
people  to  see  too  much  of  each  other  ? 
Especially  when  they  rather  like  it.  But 
I  don't  care  to  dine  with  any  one  person  in 
the  world  every  day  of  my  life — not  even 
witty,  old  dad.  It's  unnatural.  It's  wrong. 
It's  never  required,  except  in  marriage.  I 
suppose  it's  because  originally  people  could 
not  trust  each  other." 

Fred  laughed  and  almost  loved  her  for 
it.  It  reminded  him  of  those  happy  days 
192 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

which  they  had  taken  so  tragically  during 
their  honeymoon,  when  she  told  him  how 
he  bored  her.  He  had  loved  her  for  that. 

After  all,  she  was  the  only  woman  who 
had  never  "made  him  tired." 

" What's  got  into  you  lately,  Molly?" 
He  still  considered  her  a  cunning  little 
thing.  He  had  much  to  learn  about  his 
wife.  It  would  be  interesting — if  not  too 
late. 

"Oh,  I've  been  talking  to  Muriel.  She 
knows  all  about  men."  (Only  a  half-blush 
this  time.) 

It  was  not  to  be  a  noble,  self-abnegating 
sacrifice.  She  felt  vaguely  but  keenly  how 
the  land  lay.  Husbands  deceive  their  wives 
sometimes,  but  themselves  oftener.  You 
don't  suppose  she  meant  to  leave  him  now, 
just  when  he  needed  her  most!  She  would 
stand  by  him  for  his  own  sake,  but  also  for 
her  own.  For,  it  seemed,  she  too  needed 
him  most,  and  she  meant  to  get  him  back. 
This  could  not  be  done  in  one  act  and  a 
tableau.  It  would  be  a  gradual  process. 
Her  expedient  was  the  simple  one  of  facing 
193 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  facts  of  life  as  they  really  are,  not  as 
they  might  perhaps  be  in  some  world  as 
yet  uncreated. 

She  too  had  thought,  as  well  as  felt,  about 
their  marriage  and  whither  it  was  tending- 
thanks  to  Muriel's  words,  whatever  we  may 
think  of  Muriel's  deeds.  She  knew  that  he 
could  never  love  Muriel,  whether  he  did  or 
not.  She  had  taken  Muriel's  measure  at  a 
glance,  and  she  knew  this  man  better  than 
Muriel  did,  better  than  he  knew  himself. 
A  wife  who  attends  to  her  job,  summer  and 
winter,  cannot  help  knowing  her  husband 
better  than  he  knows  himself.  She  was  not 
such  an  idiot  as  to  make  him  fall  in  love 
with  Muriel  by  snatching  him  away  from 
her.  On  the  contrary,  she  proposed  to  try 
Muriel's  own  receipt,  convincingly  outlined 
in  her  lecture,  arid  subsequent  talks:  "Give 
a  man  freedom."  Why  not  freedom  per 
haps  to  love  his  own  wife  ?  For  his  sake,  as 
well  as  her  own,  she  would  not  bar  the  cage 
door,  but  fling  it  wide  open!  Sometimes  it 
is  not  the  cage  but  the  door  that  maddens 
them.  Meanwhile  she  was  preparing  to  get 

194 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

back  in  touch  with  his  life,  his  work;  to  be 
come  a  vital  part  of  his  existence,  not  a  mere 
detached  encumbrance,  a  "  necessity,"  not  a 
mere  "luxury."  Well,  here  was  work  wor 
thy  of  this  wife's  highest  talents  at  present. 
Economic,  social,  and  political  readjust 
ments  to  meet  changed  conditions  she  now 
believed  in  fervently — thanks  again  to  Mu 
riel.  But  that  would  have  to  wait  awhile, 
like  most  dreams.  Those  who  care  to,  can 
laugh  at  her  now. 

This  unexpected  move  was  as  puzzling 
to  Muriel  as  it  was  surprising  to  Fred. 
Molly  was  taking  the  matter  out  into  the 
light,  out  of  the  morbidness  of  secrecy  into 
the  free  sunshine  of  fun  and  frolic;  tear 
ing  off  the  mystery,  the  surreptitiousness. 
Would  the  charm  go,  too  ? 

"Muriel  is  dying  to  take  you  on,"  said 
Molly.  "She's  so  crazy  about  men."  She 
could  not  restrain  that  soft  scratch  at  a 
woman  she  feared  and  hated. 

"You  little  cat!"  laughed  Fred.  "Don't 
be  silly."  For  a  moment  he  felt  the  strange 
disrelish  that  he  used  to  experience  when 
195 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

as  a  boy  his  mother  urged  him  to  be  "at 
tentive"  to  the  daughters  of  family  friends. 
One  invariably  detested  them.  She  was 
making  him  feel  ridiculous — which  was  pre 
cisely  as  she  intended.  A  man  between 
two  women  is  always  ridiculous,  though  he 
doesn't  see  it.  Sometimes  it  is  dangerous 
to  let  him  see  it.  But  every  man  is  a  law 
unto  his  better  half. 

For  Molly  it  was  not  always  an  easy  part 
to  play,  with  a  smiling  face  and  quick- 
beating  heart.  But  she  hoped,  and  kept 
silent,  trying  to  believe  that  if  she  lost  him 
by  freedom  he  was  not  worth  winning 
otherwise.  Meanwhile,  she  had  begun  to 
insinuate  herself  into  his  work,  gathering  up 
the  old  threads  of  common  interests,  talking 
the  old  dear  language,  carefully  studying  the 
exhibitions,  but  keeping  most  of  the  time 
out  of  his  studio. 

"Fred,  why  don't  you  exhibit  some  of 
your  recent  illustrations  in  the  fall  when 
we  come  back?"  she  asked  him. 

Fred   smiled.     It  was  the  "why  trouble 

your    little    head    about    it?"    expression. 
196 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Who  wants  to  look  at  black-and-white?" 
he  asked. 

" Every  one — at  yours." 

Again  he  smiled  indulgently.  Fond  wives 
always  overrated  their  husband's  impor 
tance.  It  was  rather  cunning.  "All  right/' 
he  said  to  dismiss  the  subject.  "I'll  ask 
Myers  if  he  can  give  me  a  gallery." 

"Why  not  MacPherson  ?" 

He  smiled  again.  "You  don't  under 
stand  such  matters,  my  dear.  MacPherson 
wouldn't  dream  of  taking  me  on." 

"He  told  me  to-day  that  he  would," 
Molly  answered  quietly. 

"What!     Have  you— why,  Molly!" 

But  though  he  did  not  like  the  thought  of 
dainty  little  Molly's  interviewing  art  deal 
ers,  he  could  not  very  well  refuse  to  exhibit 
at  MacPherson's.  And  he  could  not  help 
being  pleased,  and  told  Molly  so,  while  she 
glowed  and  was  glad.  This  was  not  eco 
nomic  independence.  It  was  better.  It 
was  the  mutual  dependence  of  common  in 
terest.  Muriel  could  not  have  done  that, 

gloated  Molly.     She  would  not  have  taken 

197 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

che  trouble.  It  was  not  to  her  interest  to 
stay  awake  at  night  planning  things  to  do 
for  Fred.  It  was  to  a  wife's.  A  wife  stood 
or  fell  in  the  world  beside  her  husband,  as 
things  are  arranged  for  most  of  them — at 
present.  It  is  still  a  man's  world,  even  in 
these  threatening  days! 

Oh,  if  she  could  only  win  back  the  place 
that  she  had  lost!  She  saw  now  what 
might  be  done  there,  supplying  the  quali 
ties  he  lacked,  bringing  out  and  guiding 
those  he  had,  making  herself  indispensable 
to  him,  as  he  in  turn  was  indispensable  to 
her — something  more  substantial,  this,  than 
a  pretty  colored  rainbow.  There  was  no 
longer  a  chasm  between  them — merely  a 
woman.  Muriel  must  be  destroyed. 

To  be  sure,  Muriel  might  not  look  at  it 
in  that  way. 


The  spring  came,  and  Molly  was  mak 
ing  herself  of  use  to  her  husband  in  other 
ways  than  about  the  studio,  though  he  no 
longer  objected  to  her  helping  him  there, 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

unless  it  interfered  with  her  fun.  Then  the 
"why  trouble  your  little  head  about  it?" 
attitude  returned,  and  he  bade  the  cunning 
little  thing  to  run  out  and  play. 

As  for  the  other  matter,  he  could  not  very 
well  take  advantage  of  his  wife's  trust  in 
him.  He  did  not  believe  in  himself,  but 
so  long  as  she  believed  in  him  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  behave  himself.  She 
was  such  a  good  little  sport,  so  fair  and 
square  and  unsuspecting;  such  a  cheerful, 
sunny,  civilized  little  lady,  "all  uncon 
scious,"  so  he  thought,  of  the  danger  to 
which  she  was  innocently,  ignorantly  sub 
jecting  him.  But  if  these  irresistible  infat 
uations  can  be  resisted  while  the  neglected 
wife  or  husband  is  in  the  room  why  not  also 
when  alone  at  last  ? 

For  she  would  not  let  up  on  bringing 
them  together!  Even  though  he  tried  to 
make  her  let  up — in  subtle  ways  which 
would  not,  so  he  thought,  arouse  suspicions 
of  his  motives.  Indeed,  this  gallant  member 
of  the  stronger  sex  even  sought  refuge  at 
times  with  quaint  Molly  by  the  hearthstone, 
199 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

which  is  sacred,  even  when  the  fireplace  is 
asbestos.  For  Fred,  as  it  happened,  was  not 
made  of  asbestos. 

Molly  now  believed  that  she  could  win 
him  back,  but  she  would  not  clutch  him 
and  hold  him  from  the  other  woman.  She 
scorned  capture  by  "  the  tricks  of  the  only 
trade  most  of  you  have  ever  learned."  She 
had  learned  better  things  from  Muriel  her 
self. 

She  did  not  propose  to  witness  self-sacri 
ficing  and  sighing,  later,  for  what  might  have 
been;  she  intended  to  make  him  see  that 
his  wife  was  the  one  he  loved,  not  Muriel. 
The  glamour  was  still  there,  the  fascination 
of  the  unknown,  the  unattainable.  The 
reason  so  many  men  and  women  think 
they  would  have  been  happier  married  to 
the  other  one  is  because  they  never  mar 
ried  the  other  one.  Molly  could  not  very 
well  arrange  a  trial  marriage  for  this  pair, 
but  perhaps  that  was  not  necessary.  She 
evolved  a  plan  by  which,  she  hoped,  Mu 
riel  would  destroy  herself — and  make  Molly. 

The  Carrolls  were  going  off  on  a  vacation 


200 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

next  month,  up  in  the  North  Woods,  and 
they  were  telling  their  guests  about  it  at 
a  dinner  Muriel  attended,  looking  enig 
matic  and  resplendent.  "You  see,  he's 
never  had  a  vacation,  poor  lamb,  since  the 
summer  we  were  married.  I've  gone  off 
and  visited  my  people  and  his;  but  he  has 
stayed  on  here  in  the  heat  of  the  city,  turn 
ing  out  work.  Even  when  we've  been  in 
Europe  he  has  never  got  completely  away 
from  his  work." 

Fred  smiled  in  a  deprecatory  manner,  but 
he  liked  it.  They  always  do. 

"So,  when  he  refused  again  this  time, 
there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  go 
ahead  and  telegraph  the  guides.  And  now 
he  must  go,  whether  he  wants  to  or  not." 

The  guests,  including  Muriel  herself, 
thought  they  knew  why  he  did  not  want 
to  go.  The  cunning  little  wife  was  going 
to  remove  him  from  temptation.  Some  of 
the  Carrolls'  friends  who  had  been  looking 
on  during  the  winter  had  remained  silent, 
though  solicitous.  Others  had  shown  their 
friendly  interest  by  spreading  the  report, 

201 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

saying:  "Where  there's  so  much  smoke 
there  must  be  fire."  So  by  this  time  all  the 
Carrolls'  acquaintances,  and  some  who  were 
not  acquainted,  were  watching,  some  with 
alarm,  others  with  amusement,  all  with 
relish. 

Muriel,  who  sat  very  high  and  straight 
when  she  was  dining  out,  smiled  down  upon 
Molly.  She  could  not  resist  displaying  her 
potency  and  the  fear  of  it.  "What  fun 
you'll  have!  Won't  you  take  me,  too?" 
she  asked,  stepping  gracefully  into  Molly's 
trap. 

"Will  you  come?"  cried  Molly  with 
genuine  eagerness.  "Oh,  how  nice!"  And 
it  was  arranged  at  once  between  them. 
Fred  meanwhile  pretending  to  talk  shop  to 
the  woman  on  his  left,  while  he,  like  her, 
listened  to  Molly  with  astonishment. 

Muriel  considered  it  sheer  bravado.  The 
young  wife  wished  to  say  to  her  and  to  the 
others,  "See,  I'm  not  afraid!"  Muriel 
made  up  her  mind  to  accept  in  earnest.  She 
was  no  longer  amused  with  the  conventional 
little  thing.  She  was  becoming  rather  an- 

202 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

noyed.  Molly  seemed  so  complacently  sure 
of  her  husband.  And  Fred  seemed  to  be 
growing  sure  of  himself  again. 

"You  didn't  mean  that  ?"  asked  Fred  as 
soon  as  the  door  closed  on  the  last  guest. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Molly  guilelessly. 
"She's  such  a  dear  friend — of  both  of  us 


now." 


"She  won't  enjoy  camping,"  said  Fred 
scowling. 

Molly  knew  that.  It  was  one  of  the  rea 
sons  why  Muriel  had  been  invited,  though 
not  the  only  one.  "Oh,  she  told  us  when 
you  were  in  the  other  room  that  she  'adored 
nature.'  " 

Fred  did  not  laugh.  For  an  intelligent 
girl,  Molly  seemed  very  short-sighted.  What 
others  thought  about  him  had  never  troubled 
him  much — perhaps  not  enough.  But  now  he 
had  a  wife  to  look  after.  He  did  not  want 
her  friends  to  pity  her.  "  Think  what  people 
will  say,"  he  reminded  her  reluctantly. 

"Oh,  but  we  don't  look  at  these  things 
in  that  stupid  way,"  quoted  Molly. 

It  would  seem  that  her  husband,  how- 
203 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ever,  was  beginning  to  look  at  things  in 
a  very  stupid  way,  for  he  protested  to 
Muriel  herself. 

"So  you  don't  want  me?"  she  asked 
standing  before  him,  smiling. 

"No,  I  don't  want  you."  Why  could  he 
not  shake  off  this  sultry  infatuation! 

She  only  laughed  at  him.  "But  you 
do ! "  She  reproved  him  delightfully,  and  as 
if  to  shake  him  (perhaps)  she  lightly  took 
him  by  the  shoulders,  then  stopped.  "You 
mean  that  you're  afraid  of  me!"  she  said 
in  a  burlesque  whisper,  searching  his  eyes. 

"So  you've  often  told  me,"  he  replied, 
bravely  returning  her  gaze,  but  trying  not 
to  think  about  her. 

"That  settles  it,"  she  said,  flushing 
slightly,  "I'm  coming.  We'll  see." 

So  she  came  and  saw. 

"My,  what  won't  that  girl  do  next!" 
asked  certain  of  the  lookers  on. 

"Is  Molly  blind?" 

"No,  but  she  can  wink." 

But  they  were  only  lookers  on.     They 

seldom  understand. 

204 


THE  FREDERIC  CARROLLS 


XI 

It  was  the  last  day  of  Muriel's  visit  at 
the  Carrolls'  camp.  The  climate  or  some 
thing  did  not  agree  with  her,  and  so  she 
was  leaving  earlier  than  had  been  expected, 
much  to  Molly's  disappointment,  it  seems. 
Fred,  too,  protested  politely.  In  all  the 
ten  days  he  had  never  once  been  out  of 
Muriel's  sight.  Molly  saw  to  that. 

Muriel  was  not  at  her  best  camping  (as 
Molly  had  known).  She  "adored  nature," 
but  not  in  the  raw.  The  only  kind  of  camp 
ing  she  had  ever  done  was  at  certain  Adiron 
dack  "camps"  which  contained  footmen 
and  formal  gardens.  This  was  different. 
There  was  but  one  guide,  an  old  friend  of 
the  Carrolls  named  John,  who  was  willing 
to  do  anything,  but  expected  the  "city 
sports"  to  do  their  share.  Since  Muriel  was 
a  guest,  Molly  and  Fred  did  Muriel's  share, 
because  she  did  not  know  much  about  life 
in  the  woods. 

Molly    did.      She    was    good    in    camp. 

"You  are  the  only  woman  I  ever  knew/" 

205 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

Fred  had  once  said,  "who  isn't  a  nuisance 
in  the  woods."  That  was  the  summer  they 
became  engaged — perhaps  it  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  their  becoming  engaged — 
and  a  girl  does  not  forget  much  that  is  said 
to  her  during  the  summer  she  is  engaged. 
At  any  rate,  it  had  everything  to  do  with 
their  being  there  now,  midst  the  poignant 
memories  awakened  by  the  sparkling  out 
door  air  with  the  reminiscent  odors  of  the 
clean  pine  forest.  Odors  are  often  powerful 
allies  in  certain  kinds  of  war — where  all  is 
fair. 

But  camping  did  not  seem  to  suit  Mu 
riel's  long,  attenuated  style,  and  the  sun 
played  havoc  with  her  beautiful  nose.  She 
could  not  drape  herself  becomingly  upon 
the  rocks,  as  with  the  Italian  chairs  in  the 
soft  candle-light  of  the  studio.  And  the 
exotic  perfume  of  her  delicate  presence, 
once  so  maddening  to  this  man,  now  seemed 
rather  out  of  place.  He  was  a  fastidious 
chap. 

And  then,  too,  she  talked  at  breakfast! 
That  was  something  Molly  had  long  since 
206 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

learned  would  never  do  when  Fred  was 
around.  She  talked  interestingly,  but  it 
wouldn't  do.  ''See  those  clouds/'  she 
would  say,  "like  disappointed  hopes." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Fred,  without  look 
ing  up.  "Any  more  flapjacks,  Molly?" 
He  was  unshaven  and  his  cravatless  flan 
nel  shirt  was  open  at  the  throat — a  gross 
creature. 

"  'You  cannot  retain  his  interest  in  you/  " 
quoted  Molly  from  Muriel's  lecture,  and 
giving  the  gross  creature  food,  "'when  you 
are  incapable  of  intelligent  interest  in  his 
work/ '  She  did  it  with  such  good-nature 
that  Muriel  laughed.  She  was  beginning  to 
see  through  Molly,  but  she  was  beginning 
to  like  her — perhaps  for  that  reason.  World 
ly  wise  Muriel  was  a  good  sport,  even  if  not 
a  good  sportswoman.  Fred  was  no  longer 
on  the  wing.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
closed  season  even  for  husbands.  Could  it 
be  that  this  one  was  falling  in  love  with  his 
wife  ? 

After  that  morning  the  Carrolls'  distin 
guished  guest  took  breakfast  in  her  tent. 
207 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"I  am  so  absurdly  slow  about  dress 
ing,  my  dear,  that  unless  it  is  an  awful  nui 
sance— 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Molly,  "Fred  will  be 
delighted  to  bring  your  breakfast  to  you. 
And  he  will  be  only  too  glad  to  get  up  and 
heat  some  water  for  you  before  breakfast, 
if  you  like.  Won't  you,  dear?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Fred. 

But  Muriel  preferred  to  have  John,  the 
guide,  perform  these  functions.  Her  toilet 
was  complicated,  and  required  plenty  of 
hot  water  and  time.  (Molly  understood.) 
So  Muriel  tipped  John,  thus  hurting  his 
feelings.  John  used  to  crouch  upon  his 
haunches  before  the  camp-fire  in  the  even 
ing  and  gaze  upon  her  for  minutes  at  a 
time  in  mute  contempt.  He  had  never 
seen  anything  quite  like  this  before.  He 
did  not  care  for  it.  Perhaps  his  prejudice 
tinged  the  whole  camp.  The  prejudices  of 
guides  are  apt  to  do  that. 

Fred  was  all  right  by  moonlight  on  the 
lake,  unless  he  was  too  sleepy  after  being 

out-doors   all   day,    but    the    trouble    with 

208 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

Fred  was  that  he  had  not  been  in  the  woods 
for  years  and  he  was  consumed  with  a 
barbarous  lust  for  taking  innocent  life. 
His  manner  was  no  longer  bullying  with 
Muriel,  he  had  become  suspiciously  gal 
lant,  extravagantly  polite.  "Oh,  we  are 
going  to  have  a  soulful  time  together  up 
here,"  his  manner  said — "but  just  wait 
till  I  catch  a  two-pounder."  He  had  once 
been  an  expert  fly-caster.  He'd  forgotten 
how  much  he  loved  it.  These  predatory 
males!  They  love  women,  but  battle  and 
the  chase  come  first;  then  soft  femininity 
for  the  warrior's  hour  of  relaxation.  What 
else  are  they  good  for ! 

He  took  Muriel  with  him  to  some  of  the 
near-by  streams,  while  Molly  obligingly  went 
far  away  to  the  good  streams  with  John. 
The  good  streams  are  always  far  away.  Mu 
riel  could  not  stand  the  journey.  She  did 
not  know  how  to  sit  in  a  canoe,  much  less 
paddle  it,  and — she  was  bored,  quite  bored. 
She  began  to  think  she  ought  never  to  have 
come  to  this  wild  place.  After  all,  the  Car- 
rolls  were  not  her  sort.  They  were  so  child- 
209 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ish  together.  She  was  beginning  to  think 
of  them  as  a  conventional  little  couple  after 
all.  They  had  so  many  silly  little  jokes  and 
family  references.  Families  are  such  a  bore. 

Molly  was  making  ready  to  start  for 
Round  Pond  with  John.  "  You  and  Muriel 
can  guard  the  hearth-stone — I  mean  the 
camp-fire,"  she  said.  Fred  was  helping 
her  sort  out  flies,  enviously.  Muriel  was 
gazing  out  upon  the  lake,  her  hands  clasped 
behind  her  head,  tall,  erect,  enigmatic — the 
very  pose  in  which  Fred  had  painted  her. 
" Molly,"  he  whispered  boyishly,  "why 
can't  I  go  along?"  He  hadn't  had  a  day 
with  her  since  they  arrived  in  camp,  and, 
as  we  have  already  remarked,  he  was  ten 
derly  fond  of  his  precious  if  not  perfect  wife. 

"  Muriel,"  she  replied.  "  Threesomes  are 
such  a  bore!  Besides,  she  could  not  stand 
the  long  carry." 

"Why  can't  you  stay  with  Muriel — just 
once,"  he  laughed. 

"Why,  Fred,  she's  your  guest!" 

"Oh,  no.     You  invited  her." 

"For  your  sake,  Fred." 


210 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Well,  it  doesn't  seem  right  for  you  to 
leave  her  on  the  last  day  of  her  visit.  It's 
not  nice."  He  said  it  humorously,  but  he 
hoped  she  would  take  the  hint. 

"Oh,  you  can  entertain  her.  Talk  about 
nature.  You  haven't  grown  tired  of  her 
so  soon,  my  dear!" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  he  answered — and 
little  Molly  was  big  enough  to  admire  this 
chivalric  lie.  "But  you  see,"  he  went  on, 
with  a  frank  laugh,  "I've  done  nothing  but 
entertain  her  from  morning  till  night  ever 
since  we  arrived,  and  now  she's  sick  of  it, 
and  so  am  I!  Let  the  poor  girl  have  one 
pleasant  day  before  she  leaves!  You  haven't 
done  your  share.  You've  been  skipping  out 
and  having  a  good  time  and  getting  all  the 
fishing.  I  want  some  fishing  too.  That's 
what  I  came  for,  you  know.  It's  selfish.  I 
didn't  think  it  of  you!" 

"Fred!  Fred!  I  didn't  think  this  of  you! 
Cheer  up,  dear.  There's  only  one  day 
more,  then  we'll  be  together — alone,  dear. 
Besides,  you  are  going  to  see  enough  of  me 
next  winter — but  not  too  much,"  she  added 


211 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

to  herself.  "We're  going  to  get  a  studio 
apartment  and  economize.  You  are  going 
to  swear  off  illustrations,  and  become  a 
great  painter — and  so  am  I,"  she  also 
added  to  herself. 

When  conditions  fit  neither  the  old-fash 
ioned  wife  nor  the  new,  perfectly,  one  must 
mix  a  little  of  each  and  compromise  with 
conditions!  Molly  was  efficient  but  no  one 
person,  it  seems,  can  make  a  gregarious 
world  over  anew,  and  put  all  the  reformers 
out  of  a  job. 

"What  are  you  two  children  quarrelling 
about?'5  asked  Muriel  in  her  delightfully 
modulated  voice,  as  she  "swam"  toward 
them  gracefully,  her  hands  still  behind 
her  head.  "I  never  supposed  I'd  find  you 
quarrelling." 

At  this  Molly  bent  lower  over  her  fly- 
book.  "Ask  Fred,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  the  devil!"  growled  Fred,  and  he 
hurried  down  the  bank  to  bail  out  Molly's 
canoe. 

"He's  as  cross  as  a  bear  to-day,"  said 
Molly,  busily  unreeling  her  line  and  testing 


212 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

its  strength.  "Do  cheer  him  up  when  I 
am  gone,  Muriel.  If  you  can't,  who  can  ?" 

Fred,  on  the  little  dock,  holding  the  canoe, 
watched  her  approach,  carrying  the  rod 
which  he  had  taught  her  to  handle  better 
than  most  men.  She  looked  like  a  mere 
girl  in  her  short  khaki  skirt  as  she  stepped 
briskly  toward  him,  supple,  alert,  full  of 
verve  and  grace. 

Ignoring  the  hand  he  held  out  to  her,  she 
stepped  nimbly  into  the  canoe,  into  the 
centre  of  it,  with  apparent  thoughtlessness. 
Then  taking  up  her  paddle,  as  John  took 
up  his,  "Good-by,  my  dears,"  she  said, 
"take  good  care  of  each  other.  I'll  not  be 
back  till  sunset.  Muriel,  help  yourself  to 
my  cold  cream,  if  yours  is  all  gone.  Help 
yourself  to  anything  of  mine  you  can  use," 
and  away  she  went,  paddling  swiftly. 

The  two  prisoners  gazed  after  her  in  si 
lent  alarm,  both  self-conscious,  dreading  to 
meet  each  other's  eyes,  longing  for  cheerful 
Molly's  return.  Muriel  was  no  longer  a 
welcome  luxury,  and  as  Molly  had  inter 
fered  with  her  being  a  necessity,  she  had 
213 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

become  disquietingly  like  a  nuisance.  To 
her  Fred  had  simply  become  another  disap 
pointment — like  all  men,  when  once  you 
know  them  well  enough.  Muriel  was  out  of 
the  procession.  And  yet  those  who  only  look 
on  from  the  grandstand  have  their  uses. 
They  enjoy  the  advantage  of  perspective. 
Observe  this  young  pair  falling  into  line. 
Who  whistled  them  into  step  ?  Who  showed 
them  where  to  march  ?  And  yet  it  is  quite 
possible  that  they  would  fail  to  thank  her ! 
.  .  .  Molly's  canoe  disappeared  behind  the 
point.  The  two  marooned  mutineers  be 
came  more  conscious  of  each  other's  pres 
ence.  "May  I  not  get  you  a  sofa-cushion ?" 
asked  Fred  politely. 

"No,  thanks,"  Muriel  replied  musically, 
"I  must  pack." 

When  Molly  returned,  the  two  congenial 
old  friends  were  sitting  side  by  side  talking 
animatedly  about  the  sunset.  But  she  ob 
served  with  a  smile  that  there  was  an  open 
book  beside  Muriel.  And  when  Molly 
drew  nearer  she  discovered  another  book, 
beside  Fred.  Well,  we  must  all  keep  up 
214 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

appearances  in  this  conventional  world. 
But  you  mustn't  blame  Molly  for  abruptly 
running  off  to  her  tent  to  laugh  at  these 
respectable  people. 

When  at  last  the  hour  of  departure  came, 
welcome  to  all,  including  John,  groaning 
under  Muriel's  mountainous  duffle  bag, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carroll  stood  upon  the  little 
dock  and  waved  good-by  to  their  guest, 
retreating  in  good  order,  colors  flying,  giving 
and  receiving  little  jokes  as  if  nothing  had 
happened;  smiling  inwardly  at  them  and 
at  herself;  defeated  but  not  depressed — and 
so  out  to  view  the  procession  once  more. 

When  at  last  her  canoe  disappeared  be 
hind  the  point,  Molly  heard  her  husband 
breathe  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  she  smiled  in 
dulgently,  as  when  a  mother  hears  her  dear 
child  waking  up  from  a  bad  dream.  The 
little  comedy  was  ended.  The  field  was 
now  clear  for  the  greater  task  still  unfinished, 
to  make  a  real  union  of  what  had  merely 
been  a  marriage.  It  was  a  good  place  to  re 
sume,  here  where  they  had  made  their  false 
start.  There  was  much  to  be  done,  but 
215 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

she  had  it  in  her  own  hands  now.  Man 
proposes  marriage;  woman  disposes  of  it. 

Fred  had  turned  eagerly  to  talk  of  fishing 
plans.  But  he  had  been  arrested  by  the 
look  on  his  wife's  half-turned  face.  He  was 
still  gazing  at  it  in  amazement  as  compre 
hension  flashed  across  his  own.  Then  with 
the  mingled  sensations  of  a  man  awakening 
to  the  great  fact  that  his  wife  understands 
him  better  than  he  does  himself — alarm, 
respect,  amusement,  and  solid  comfort — 
" Molly!  you  little  wretch!"  he  cried,  sheer 
admiration  for  her  breaking  through  shame 
and  all  the  rest,  "I  see  it  now!" 

They  turned  and  confronted  each  other 
with  new  eyes,  understanding  and  un 
ashamed,  while  laughter  crowded  out  their 
old  polite  artificiality.  For  him  it  was  the 
moment  of  clear  vision.  He  saw  what  a 
stupid  thing  their  marriage  had  been,  what 
a  goodly  thing  it  might  be.  And  as  that 
pleasant  vista  opened  out  before  his  seeing 
eyes  the  sickly  half-gods  took  their  whim 
pering  flight  with  the  fog  and  murk  of  illu 
sion.  Then  came  rushing  back  the  God- 
216 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

given  flame  of  love,  fusing  soul  and  senses 
as  in  the  blind  days  before  this  guileless 
pair  had  lost  each  other's  hands  in  the 
man-planted  maze  of  marriage — but  now 
the  splendid  flame  surged,  white  and  clear 
and  unafraid.  He  caught  his  rosy  mate 
and  held  her  close  in  their  mad,  glad,  good 
renewal,  the  tenderest  of  passions. 

When  Fred  spoke  it  was  to  say:  "  Molly, 
it  isn't  that  I  was  such  an  ass  that  sur 
prises  me,  but  that  you  considered  me 
worth  pulling  out!" 

She  looked  up,  tender,  merry,  and  wise. 
"Oh,  I  will  always  pull  you  out/'  she  said. 


217 


SECOND  PART 
THE  HOUSE  OF  CARROLL 


IV 

THE    COMEDY    OF    HOME- 
BUILDING 

SCENES:    First,  chiefly  in   the  clouds  of  sweet   illusion. 
Second,  down  to  earth  also  sweet,  but  solid. 

(SEVERAL  YEARS  HAVE  ELAPSED,  AND  THE  CARROLLS 
HAVE  BECOME  YOUNGER — AT  LEAST  THEY  APPEAR  IN  A 

NEW  LIGHT,  AS  TOGETHER  THEY  FACE  THE  PRESSING 
PROBLEM  OF  ESTABLISHING  A  NEW  HOME  FOR  NEW  CAR- 
ROLLS.  THEY  ARE  ABLE  TO  GET  SOME  FUN  OUT  OF  IT.) 

I 

THEY  had  begun  building  their  house  to 
gether  on  paper  years  ago,  before  they  really 
had  any  use  for  one,  not  yet  being  together, 
and  discussed  interior  arrangements  with  an 
exterior  calmness  which  scandalized  Aunt 
Bella,  who  also  was  not  married.  She  lived 
alone  with  mid- Victorian  ideals  in  a  stiff, 
old  brownstone  house  which  had  steps  lead 
ing  up  to  a  high  stoop  outside  and  silver 
knobs  on  sombre  walnut  doors  within.  She 
did  not  understand  the  younger  generation. 

221 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

For  that  matter,  these  two  members  of 
the  younger  generation  had  not  understood 
each  other — though  they  thought  they  did — 
nor  the  building  of  homes,  except  that  theirs 
(on  this  point  they  were  clear)  would  be 
quite  different  from  Aunt  Bella's.  For  that 
is  the  way  with  home-building  and  younger 
generations,  as  may  be  learned  from  "The 
Master  Builder."  .  .  . 

The  wonderful  house  of  their  dreams 
was  to  be  in  the  country — the  real  country, 
not  the  suburbs,  though,  preferably,  near  a 
golf  links.  It  was  to  be  long  and  low  and 
lovable,  rather  than  tall  and  towering  and 
impressive.  It  was  to  cling  close  to  the 
ground,  but  to  shun  the  public  highway. 
It  was  to  nestle  under  a  benign  old  tree  or 
two  which  would  like  to  have  it  there  but 
would  not  shut  out  the  view  of  the  distant 
sea.  It  was  to  stand — or  rather  rest — upon 
a  gentle  terrace,  somewhat  run  down  at  the 
edges,  and  to  be  surrounded  by  an  old  wall, 
somewhat  mouldy  in  the  shaded  corners. 
Over  the  whole  thing  were  to  be  clambering 
vines  and  the  tone  of  time — something  which 

222 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

could  hardly  be  purchased  for  a  new  house, 
even  if  they  had  plenty  of  money.  But  it 
cost  no  more  to  dream  it  thus,  and  in  time 
they  might  acquire  both  the  house  and 
the  mellow  atmosphere  of  home.  They  had 
plenty  of  time. 

Being  a  painter,  he  was  given  to  mak 
ing  sketches  in  odd  moments  of  interesting 
details  of  the  exterior — quaint  doorways, 
with  only  one  step  up  into  the  house;  placid 
gable-ends,  with  groups  of  chimney-pots 
emerging  from  among  the  branches  of  the 
caressing  trees  in  a  manner  to  make  one 
want  to  see  the  rest.  (Perhaps,  after  all, 
they  did  want  people  to  see  their  house 
— some  people.)  She,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  not  only  "so  artistic,"  as  some  of  her 
friends  called  it,  but  also  a  "splendid 
housekeeper,"  as  even  those  who  disliked 
her,  admitted.  Why  should  not  the  two 
"feminine"  qualities  go  together?  Molly, 
at  any  rate,  was  expert  at  planning  interiors, 
very  practical  ones,  composed  almost  en 
tirely  of  fireplaces  and  bath-rooms.  So  it 
is  easy  to  see  what  an  excellent  life  partner- 
223 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ship  theirs  was,  and  they  had  great  fun  for 
years  and  years  planning  the  house  that  was 
to  be,  and  fighting  about  it  but  seldom. 

His  fun  was  chiefly  in  designing  some 
thing  beautiful,  an  ability  which  she  could 
appreciate;  hers  the  more  elemental  and 
lasting  joy  of  home-making,  a  quality  which 
he  admired  in  women  and  which  the  biog 
raphers  of  bunnies  and  birdies  would  prob 
ably  cite  as  a  development  of  the  primal 
instinct  of  nest-building.  However  that 
may  be,  no  woman  is  really  happy — so  men 
have  said,  and  men  know  all  about  them 
—until  she  has  a  home  of  her  own,  with 
babies  and  a  lot  of  odds  and  ends  to  stow 
away  in  attics. 

Attics  and  closets  she  dreamed  about 
and  gloated  over  more  than  any  other  part 
of  the  house,  even  more  than  fireplaces  and 
bath-rooms.  "  It  will  be  such  luxury,"  she 
said,  "  after  all  these  years  of  existing,  not 
really  living,  in  apartments  at  home  and 
in  trunks  abroad." 

So,  while  he  in  imagination  was  down  in 

the  wine  cellar  (to  be  constructed  after  an 
224 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

original  design  of  his  own)  laying  away  Bur 
gundy  to  grow  old  and  mellow  with  the 
house  and  themselves,  she  in  imagination 
was  up  in  the  garret  laying  away  clothes 
which  were  already  old.  And  while  he  was 
designing  entrancing  groups  of  low  lattice 
windows  with  hollyhocks  peeping  in,  she 
was  planning  sunny  nurseries  with  babies 
peeping  out. 

Then  together  in  imagination  they  would 
meet  half-way — say  by  the  broad  hall  fire 
place — to  receive  a  houseful  of  congenial 
guests  for  the  week-end.  The  instinct  of 
hospitality  was  strong  in  both  of  them,  but 
it  took  a  long  time  to  agree  upon  the  motto 
for  the  stone  mantel.  She  wanted  a  line 
from  Horace,  and  he  wanted  something 
modern,  because  so  many  modern  guests 
wouldn't  understand  Latin. 

"But  we  could  translate  it  for  them," 
she  said,  pushing  back  her  pretty  wavy  hair 
soberly. 

That  was  not  his  idea  of  art  or  hospital 
ity,  but  he  only  chuckled,  because  Molly 
225 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

was  always  interesting  when  she  said  foolish 
things  in  that  demure  manner. 

So  they  compromised  upon  a  couplet  in 
old  English,  though,  as  it  turned  out,  there 
wasn't  any  mantel-piece  in  the  hall,  and  the 
one  in  the  living  room  proved  to  be  of  wood, 
and  the  couplet  was  never  carved  because 
he  wanted  to  do  it  himself,  but  somehow  or 
other  he  never  got  around  to  it.  Meanwhile, 
before  the  house  was  even  begun,  some  of 
the  friends  they  were  entertaining  in  im 
agination  so  lavishly  died  or  married  and 
ceased  to  be  friends. 

But  the  house  continued  to  grow  on  paper, 
until  from  beginning  as  a  modest  cottage  it 
became  a  mellow  manor  house,  very  simple 
and  intelligible  in  its  long,  low  lines,  quite 
devoid  of  ornamentation,  but  beautiful  in 
"  mass  and  proportion."  There  were  mean 
dering  wings  running  out  on  either  side, 
with  seeming  artlessness,  ending  in  a  spa 
cious  studio  at  one  end  and  a  trim  stable 
yard  at  the  other,  with  a  clock  in  the  stable 
tower  and  a  dovecote  in  the  loft.  There 
226 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

was  no  break  in  the  lines;  the  various  ap 
pendages  were  all  held  together  in  one  pleas 
ant,  reposeful  composition  by  an  old  brick 
wall  with  creamy  gray  stone  balls  on  the 
gate  posts  and  carelessly  clustering  masses 
of  thick  shrubbery,  half  concealing,  half  re 
vealing  all  these  charms — not  to  speak  of 
the  noble  oak  near  the  left-hand  edge  of 
the  picture,  with  lower  branches  reaching 
almost  across,  while  the  upper  ones  soared 
far  aloft,  dwarfing  the  low  house  delight 
fully  and  making  a  fine  effect  against  one 
of  Fred's  "bully,  bulbous  clouds."  In  fact, 
it  seemed  to  them  quite  a  satisfactory  house, 
and  they  progressed  admirably  with  it  as 
long  as  they  were  left  alone  with  their  pen 
cils  and  paper  and  paint  and  dreams.  But 
one  day  they  called  in  an  architect. 

II 

.  Without  architects  and   such  agents   of 
actuality,   what   wonderful  houses — not  to 
say  castles  in  the  air — we  can  all  build! 
The  Carrolls'  architect  was  a  friend.     At 

least  he  had  been  before  he  became  their 

227 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

architect.  That  was  their  first  mistake  in 
trying  to  make  their  dream  come  true, 
To  be  sure,  it  could  never  have  come  true, 
in  any  case,  as  they  dreamed  it,  but  one 
should  never  employ  a  friend  for  an  archi 
tect  unless  one  has  too  many  friends. 

Wilson  Peters  was  not  a  bad  fellow,  and 
Molly  had  even  forgiven  his  having  been 
an  intimate  of  Fred's  before  marriage. 
That  was  in  the  old  days  when  both  men 
were  young  aspirants  together  in  Paris, 
dreaming  of  many  impossible  things  and 
some  possible  ones  which  had  since  come 
true.  Fame  was  coquetting  pleasantly  with 
both  of  them  now,  and  each  had  a  frank 
liking  for  the  other's  ability,  mingled  with 
a  secret  contempt  for  what  was  being  done 
with  it.  It  seemed  to  Carroll  that  Peters 
was,  unconsciously  perhaps,  allowing  him 
self  to  become  a  woman's  architect,  "a  man 
milliner,"  Fred  called  it.  This  architect's 
clever  prettiness,  Carroll  thought,  was  even 
more  criminal  than  the  ignorant  banalities 
of  many  of  his  trade,  because  of  its  seduc 
tive  appeal  to  the  pseudo-cultured  taste  of 
228 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

the  new  generation  of  American  millionair 
esses  who  thought  they  knew  architecture 
when  they  saw  it  because  they  had  a  speak 
ing  acquaintance  with  its  family  names,  and 
could  talk  about  " style"  and  "periods." 
The  outward  details  of  the  real  thing  were 
always  there  in  Peters'  work  (a  rich  riot 
of  detail,  very  expensive),  but  the  inward 
spirit  was  lacking.  So  Fred  informed  Molly, 
and  perhaps  he  was  right,  though,  like  most 
people  who  build  houses,  he  did  not  know 
as  much  about  architecture  as  he  thought 
he  did. 

Peters  considered  Carroll  a  pig-headed 
painter,  "a  •  visionary  realist/'  who  stuck 
to  an  ultra-modern  school  when  he  might 
have  been  making  fame  and  fortune  doing 
what  people  would  like  and  buy.  We 
have  only  one  life  to  lead,  and  the  ques 
tion  was  whether  it  wasn't  better  to  ex 
press  yourself  somehow  or  other — even  in 
a  falsetto  voice — than  not  to  express  your 
self  at  all.  .  .  .-Perhaps  neither  of  these 
young  men  really  understood  the  other. 

We'll  see  about  that  after  a  while. 
229 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

The  architect  glanced  over  the  artist's 
sketches  with  the  inscrutable  look  experts 
usually  bestow  upon  the  ideas  of  amateurs. 
Physicians,  lawyers,  they  all  have  that  look, 
especially  the  very  young  ones,  when  clients 
or  patients  venture  suggestions.  "If  you 
only  knew  what  I  know!"  it  seems  to  say, 
"but  I  won't  tell."  Probably  it's  a  pro 
fessional  secret.  Peters  said,  "Umhum," 
and  put  down  the  sketches. 

"Well,"  said  Molly  impatiently,  "why 
don't  you  say  they  are  perfectly  lovely?" 

Fred  chuckled,  to  show  that  this  was 
one  of  Molly's  pleasantries. 

"They  are.  They  are,  indeed!"  said 
Peters  indulgently,  but  he  still  wore  the 
look.  It  was  clear  to  Molly  that  this  archi 
tect  had  no  real  art  feeling  and  was  jeal 
ous  of  the  beautiful  sketches.  But  that 
wasn't  it.  As  mere  pictures  they  had  a  nice 
feeling,  the  charm  of  a  strong,  simple  per 
sonality.  As  an  architectural  problem  they 
were  impossible,  full  of  incongruities,  an 
achronisms,  absurdities.  But  he  was  an 

architect  and  had  learned  to  be  tactful. 

230 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Of  course/'  said  Fred,  "this  facade 
may  be  all  wrong,  but,  at  least,  we  want 
it  unpretentious.  Please  curb  your  ten 
dency  to  beautify  [note  how  tactful  they 
both  were  at  this  stage  of  the  game],  be 
cause  you  aren't  building  for  a  millionaire 
this  time." 

"I  thought  maybe  I  was,"  said  Wilson 
whimsically.  "Have  you  any  idea  how 
much  this  outfit  would  cost  ?  By  the  strict 
est  economy,  using  the  simplest  materials 
and  restraining  my  'tendency  to  beautify' 
we  might  possibly  build  something  of  this 
sort  for  a  little  over  double  your  present 
appropriation,  but  I  doubt  it." 

Thus  the  house  of  their  dreams,  which 
had  been  building  for  years,  fell  to  the 
ground  in  less  than  a  minute. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  them  to  get 
the  price  of  things.  They  only  knew  that 
houses  of  that  sort  could  be  bought  for  a 
song  in  England,  shooting  included.  They 
had  once  rented  an  old  one  marked  down 
to  a  dollar-ninety-eight,  or  thereabouts,  a 
day,  furnished.  That  was  years  ago,  dur- 


THE  MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ing  their  honeymoon,  which  now  seemed 
roseate  and  beautiful,  as  well  as  amusing 
and  absurd.  But  they  were  much  younger 
and  less  serious  now.  .  .  . 

There  was  a  tense  silence,  despite  the 
crashing  of  the  walls  of  their  sweet  home. 
Fred  took  a  cigarette.  Molly  turned  her 
face  away  and  almost  wept.  Do  you  won 
der  that  they  soon  learned  to  hate  their 
architect  ? 

"Now,  if  you'll  let  me  draw  you  a  little 
preliminary  sketch—  he  began. 

"We  couldn't  think  of  it,"  said  Molly. 
"If  you  won't  let  us  have  that  house,  we 
don't  want  any!  Let's  not  talk  about  it." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Fred  smiling,  "why  spoil 
a  pleasant  evening.  Have  a  fresh  cigar, 
Pete." 

But  few  are  ever  so  lucky,  or  unlucky, 
as  to  build  the  house  of  their  dreams,  and 
that  is  one  reason  why  so  many  people  go 
through  life  without  ever  building  at  all, 
forgetting  that  the  realization  of  a  com 
promise  is  better  than  no  realization  at  all. 

(Perhaps  there  is  something  in  Peters'  view 

232 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

of  self-expression.)  Moreover,  in  the  case 
of  the  Carrolls,  it  was  no  longer  a  mere 
luxurious  whim  for  living  six  months  of  the 
year  in  the  country;  for  there  was  now  a 
worthy  son  of  the  (unbuilt)  house  who  was 
already  beginning  to  sniff  contemptuously 
at  the  asphalt  paths  in  the  park,  and  there 
was  a  smaller  Molly  rapidly  outgrowing 
baby-carriages.  They  wanted  the  country. 
Therefore  it  was  not  as  a  pretty  preference 
that  the  Carrolls  confronted  the  question, 
but  as  a  judicious  move  for  the  parents  of 
healthy  children.  The  younger  generation 
again,  already  knocking  lightly  at  the  door 
— down  near  the  bottom  of  it;  they  couldn't 
yet  reach  the  latch  nor  turn  the  old  people 
out.  ...  It  merely  meant  that  Frederic 
Carroll  had  postponed,  for  a  little  longer, 
his  plan  of  becoming  America's  foremost 
portrait  painter,  and  had  gone  in  for  land 
scapes,  at  which  he  was  doing  very  well,  to 
the  surprise  of  all  his  friends.  But  that 
shows  the  advantage  of  being  a  versatile 
genius:  The  job  can  follow  the  family, 
instead  of  making  the  family  follow  the  job, 
233 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Besides,  as  a  literary  friend  of  Carroll's 
remarked,  a  family  is  better  than  fame, 
a  wife  than  wealth,  and  children  than  a 
career.  The  famous  literary  friend  had 
none  of  these,  but  Fred  still  had  adjustable 
ideals.  Well,  surely,  they  are  better  than 
none  at  all. 

Indeed,  the  Carrolls  had  bought  their 
land,  and  now  they  felt  that  they  must  build 
upon  it  whether  they  wanted  to  or  not.  It 
was  not,  by  the  way,  a  farm,  nor  was  it 
very  far  from  the  road.  It  wasn't  even  a 
road,  but  a  street,  though  they  insisted  upon 
calling  it  a  lane — a  compromise  in  self- 
expression.  In  fact,  their  "land"  was  mere 
ly  a  lot  on  the  edge  of  a  town,  but  it  was  a 
most  charming  town,  and  their  lot  a  large 
one,  with  a  gentle  slope  to  the  south,  and 
with  no  other  houses  is  sight  from  the  pro 
posed  terrace.  It  did  not  command  a  view 
of  the  distant  sea,  because  the  sea  hap 
pened  to  be  too  distant,  but  there  was  a 
sweet-curving  river,  cutting  through  a  wav 
ing  meadow  with  a  silver  sickle;  and  be 
yond  that  many  miles  of  open  country 
234 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

rolled  out  in  diminishing  ripples  until  lost 
in  the  soft  haze  of  a  distant  fringe  of  hills. 
This  did  not  give  the  sharp  thrill  of  the 
vivid  sea,  but  it  would  do,  at  a  pinch,  as 
has  been  proved  since  by  a  characteristic 
and  now  costly  Carroll,  which  occupies 
valuable  space  upon  the  already  expensive 
walls  of  one  of  our  most  revered  historic 
homes  on  upper  Fifth  Avenue,  thus  doing 
its  humble  part  in  the  task  of  ennobling 
its  celebrated  owner,  whom  we  shall  meet 
and  celebrate  later  in  these  veracious  an 
nals. 

Architects  will  tell  you  that  the  lines  and 
type  of  a  house  ought,  of  course,  to  be  de 
termined  by  one's  site.  The  Carrolls  had 
reversed  this  process.  They  had  chosen 
this  site  because  it  suited  their  house! 

Well,  they  did  not  like  the  sketches  Wil 
son  Peters  drew  up  for  them.  "I'd  rather 
be  shot  than  live  in  that  house,"  said  Fred 
to  Molly.  "It's  so  restlessly  self-assertive 
that  it  would  keep  us  all  awake  at  night." 

"It  looks  like  a  world's  fair  building," 
said  she. 

235 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

To  Wilson  they  said,  "Very  pretty,  but — 
too  pretty  for  us.  You'd  better  throw  us 
over  altogether.  We'll  only  give  you  trou 
ble,  and  it's  such  a  small  job  for  such  a  big 
architect." 

He  said  he  didn't  want  to  do  that — 
though  he  did — unless  they  wanted  to 
throw  him  over. 

They  did,  but  only  said,  "  Don't  talk  that 
way,  Wilson!"  and  added,  "Why  couldn't 
you  take  our  vague  idea  of  a  house  and 
modify  it  to  suit  our  pocketbook  ?  There's 
nothing  very  vague  about  that." 

Peters  didn't  want  to  do  this;  he  wanted 
to  "express  himself,"  but  he  said  he  would 
try.  He  was  interested  in  the  problem; 
he  saw  more  merit,  to  tell  the  truth,  than 
he  cared  to  acknowledge  in  the  essentials 
of  Fred's  idea;  and,  besides,  he  liked  Fred, 
and  was  beginning  to  like  Molly. 

Furthermore,  he  had  a  rough,  prelimi 
nary  plan  for  saying  in  the  future  to  mil 
lionaire  clients,  or  potential  clients — mil 
lionaires  being  thick  in  the  neighborhood 
— "Now,  here's  a  little  thing  I  did  for 
236 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

my  friend  Frederic  Carroll,  the  landscape 
painter— not  bad  of  its  sort,  hey,  what?" 

"Now,"  said  Carroll,  taking  out  the 
sketches  and  trying  to  look  very  practi 
cal,  "we  don't  really  need  the  stable,  be 
cause  we  haven't  any  horses,  you  know." 
It  seemed  reasonable  to  give  up  the 
stable. 

"And  probably  never  will  have  any  after 
we  get  through  building  a  house,"  said 
Molly.  Therefore  all  the  more  reasonable. 
Out  went  the  stable. 

"I  only  put  it  in,"  explained  Fred,  "to 
make  the  sketch  compose — but  look!"  he 
added  triumphantly,  and  laid  a  book  over 
one  side  of  the  sketch  and  a  hand  over 
the  other.  "By  simply  striking  out  both 
the  stable  and  the  squash  court,  why,  you 
see,  the  thing  still  composes  beautifully!" 

"Oh,  but  can't  we  keep  even  the  stable 
yard?"  pleaded  Molly. 

"It  would  hardly  be  worth  while  with 
out  the  stable,"  said  Fred  judiciously. 

"Not  even  the  clock?" 

"Not  even  the  clock,"  he  pronounced 
237 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

with  sternness  and  glanced  at  the  archi 
tect  for  approval. 

"  You're  doing  well,"  said  Peters  laugh 
ing.  "Is  the  brick  wall  a  'must'  ?" 

"Don't  you  tear  down  our  wall!"  cried 
Molly.  "It's  so  dear." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  said  Peters, 
and  told  them  the  cost  by  the  perch. 

"Make  it  a  hedge,"  said  Fred.  "The 
deep  green  against  the  house! — much  more 
swell  than  red  bricks." 

"Now  about  the  house  itself,"  began  the 
architect  in  a  tentative  manner.  Both 
Carrolls  turned  upon  him  fiercely.  He 
blinked  and  pretended  to  dodge.  (Please 
note  how  pleasantly  jocular  they  are  to 
gether.)  "I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  "but  your 
ideas  are  still  entirely  too  elaborate  for 
your  appropriation." 

"We  call  it  our  limit,"  said  Fred. 

"Well,  you  must  either  raise  your  limit 
or  reduce  your  ideas.  Building  is  twice  as 
expensive  as  it  used  to  be."  (It  always  is.) 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do!"  cried  Mol 
ly,  with  an  inspiration.  "We'll  give  up  the 
238 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

tiling  in  the  bath-rooms!  White  enamel 
woodwork  is  just  as  clean  and  nice,  and  it 
won't  crack." 

The  architect  smiled  indulgently.  "That 
might  save  a  hundred  or  two,"  he  said 
grimly. 

"Well,  what  do  you  propose?"  snapped 
out  Fred,  fearing  the  worst. 

"Long,  low  rambling  houses  are  very 
interesting  to  look  at,"  began  Peters,  "and 
I  assure  you,"  he  added  hastily,  "much 
more  fun  for  the  architect,  but " 

"Now  he's  going  to  pull  down  even  the 
house!"  cried  Molly  aghast. 

"No,"  laughed  Peters,  "only  to  build 
it  up  a  little.  For  one  thing,  your  plan 
would  require  at  least  three  furnaces,  since 
you  insist  on  hot  air." 

"But  look  at  all  our  lovely  fireplaces!" 
said  Molly. 

"Yes,  look  at  them!  Scattered  out  all 
over  the  place.  Let  me  see,  you'd  have  to 
build  six  chimneys.  Chimneys  cost  money. 
Likewise  with  your  bath-rooms;  you've  got 
your  plumbing  system  spread  out  to  the 
239 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

four  winds.  Plumbing  is  expensive.  Be 
sides,  some  of  your  pipes  would  freeze. 
Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  of  that  ?"  (No, 
they  had  never  stopped  to  think  of  that.) 
"Then,  heavens!  all  these  corners;  corners 
are  costly.  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  con 
centrate  your  house  a  little.  In  fact/'  he 
paused  to  deliver  the  cruel  blow,  "I'm 
awfully  afraid  that  you'll  have  to  lift  up 
this  wing  and  plunk  it  down  on  top  of  the 
other  one  and— throw  away  the  middle." 
Once  more  he  burlesqued  warding  off  a 
blow. 

This  time  the  Carrolls  did  not  laugh. 

A    high    house   after   all!     That    was   a 
little  too  much. 

("He's  a  facetious  little  man,"  thought 
Molly.  "I  never  did  like  him.")  Fred  re 
mained  silent  and  avoided  his  wife's  eyes. 
Peters  made  use  of  the  silence  to  rush  in 
upon  them  while  off  their  guard;  so  un 
sportsmanlike.  "Then,  again,  take  this 
long  roof.  Tile  is  very  interesting,  and 
takes  a  nice  color,  but  did  you  ever  price 
it?"  (No  answer.)  "It's  not  only  expen- 
240 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

sive  in  itself,  but  you'd  have  to  increase 
your  supports  beneath  in  order  to  sustain 
the  tremendously  increased  weight.  Ever 
lift  a  tile  and  a  shingle  ?" 

A  deeper  silence. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  growled  Fred,  "every 
thing  we  want  we  can't  have." 

"And  everything  we  can  have  we  don't 
want,"  sighed  Molly. 

That  was  the  way  it  seemed  at  the  mo 
ment,  but  when  they  recovered  from  the 
first  blow  they  decided  philosophically  that 
a  great  many  of  the  things  they  couldn't 
have  they  really  did  not  want.  "Billiard 
tables  are  always  hideous,  no  matter  who 
designs  them,"  said  Fred,  "even  if  they  did 
not  eat  up  space.  I  can  play  at  the  club." 

Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  Molly  wanted 
it,  but  she  let  it  go.  "And  I  don't  really 
need  a  sewing  room.  The  nursery  will  do 
perfectly  well,"  she  said. 

"And  we  can  cut  out  a  guest  room  or 

two.     They  are  a  nuisance  to  take  care  of 

with   so   few   servants.     When   we   have   a 

house  full  of  people  we  can  utilize  divans 

241 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

in  the  studio  and  so  on  for  sloppy  bache 
lors,  like  Pete." 

"And  a  reception  room  is  a  stiff  and  use 
less  formality.  That  secluded  window  niche 
in  the  hall  will  do." 

So  the  process  of  elimination  went  on 
until  the  house  shrank  to  about  half  the 
size  of  the  dream  house.  But  there  was 
one  thing  they  would  not  give  up,  and  that 
was  the  low,  caressable  effect  of  the  ex 
terior.  It  wouldn't  seem  like  a  home  if  it 
were  high  and  conspicuous,  they  said.  The 
house  was  now  reduced  to  sixteen  rooms, 
including  the  hall  and  the  laundry,  and 
few  of  them  very  large  rooms  at  that;  but 
then  none  of  the  charming  rooms  at  Mount 
Vernon  are  large,  and  if  the  father  of  his 
country  enjoyed  small  rooms,  probably  the 
father  and  mother  of  the  Carroll  children 
could  do  so  too.  Well,  being  small,  the 
rooms  could  stand  low  ceilings — they  had 
wanted  low  ceilings  all  along — and,  as  it 
turned  out,  the  experienced  architect  found 
a  way  of  making  the  third  story  look  merely 
like  a  roof,  though  it  really  contained,  most 
242 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

surprisingly,  three  servants'  rooms,  a  good- 
sized  bachelor  guest  room,  a  bath-room,  and 
two  large  attics  for  Molly  to  revel  in.  So 
they  had  their  long,  low  effect  and  yet  had 
only  one  furnace — a  big  one,  school-house 
size — and  concentrated  plumbing.  This 
was  very  clever  of  Peters,  and  they  really 
began  to  respect  him  a  little.  Architects, 
it  seems,  have  the  qualities  of  their  de 
fects. 

They  now  thought  they  had  their  dream 
reduced  to  the  lowest  common  denomi 
nator  with  reality. 

"You  will  still  have  your  fine  roomy 
studio  on  the  north,"  said  Molly.  "  That's 
the  main  thing." 

"And  you,  the  big  sunny  nursery  on 
the  south,"  said  Fred.  "That's  the  main 
thing." 

"You  can  still  have  your  wine  cellar," 
she  added. 

"Yes,  even  if  there's  no  wine  in  it.  And 
you  can  have  an  attic  and  lots  of  closets." 

"Even  if  we  have  to  sell  our  clothes  to 
pay  for  them,"  remarked  his  frugal  wife. 
243 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

"And  you  can  have  your  garden  with 
a  pool  to  reflect  the  sunset,  below  the  ter 
race,"  pursued  her  generous  husband. 

"Even  though  we  have  no  gardener. 
And  you  can  have  your  tennis  court  below 
the  garden/*  returned  Molly. 

"Even  though  I'll  never  have  time  to 
play  on  it,"  laughed  Fred. 

Moreover,  it  was  going  to  be  a  very  com 
fortable  and  rather  distinguished  little  coun 
try  place,  they  believed,  with  plenty  of  open 
fires  (six  were  plenty)  and  pleasant  propor 
tions — thanks  to  "only  a  slight  increase" 
in  their  appropriation.  The  lines  were  to 
be  simple  and  dignified;  the  effect  placid 
and  unstrenuous— thanks  to  a  few  mild 
scraps  with  Peters.  For  when  it  came  to 
drawing  up  the  working  plans  in  scale,  he 
could  not  resist  "featuring"  chimneys  and 
things,  "expressing  himself  in  his  work,"  he 
called  it,  with  proper  professional  pride. 

"Suppose  you  express  wj,"  said  Fred. 
"  We've  got  to  live  in  the  thing.  You  can 
express  yourself  in  your  work  for  the  Har 
rison  Wellses.  They  don't  live  in  any  of 
244 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

their  houses.  They  merely  stop  in  them  foi 
a  few  weeks  at  a  time." 

"Fred,"  said  Wilson,  "I  take  off  my  hat 
to  you  as  a  painter,  but  when  it  comes  to 
architecture — well,  you  don't  understand 
my  'Art.'  " 

"There's  something  in  that,"  admitted 
Fred  with  a  smile.  "But,  Pete,"  he  gal 
loped  on,  for  his  favorite  hobby  had  been 
pricked,  "I  understand  enough  about  art 
in  general  to  know  that  beauty  is  a  thing 
that  comes  out  of  itself — a  sort  of  by 
product  in  the  pursuit  of  something  else, 
truth,  maybe.  It  just  dawns.  It  can't  be 
stuck  on,  Pete.  Not  even  by  as  clever  an 
architect  as  you."  Wilson  looked  bored. 
Carroll  laughed  and  dismounted,  saying, 
"Besides,  this  is  a  poor  man's  house;  why 
not  let  it  look  like  it — 'poor  but  honest.' 
Why  take  the  trouble  to  put  on  lugs  ?  I 
don't  care  in  the  least  to  throw  a  bluff  be 
fore  the  world.  Why  should  I  ?  The  meas 
ure  of  success  in  my  trade  is  not  the  amount 
of  money  I  make." 

"Gee!"  laughed  Wilson,  passing  it  off 
245 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

lightly,  "I  used  to  think  it  pretty  fierce  to 
build  for  Philistines — but  a  painter's  the 
limit!" 

Then  they  both  laughed  and  parted  with 
out  blows,  but  it  did  not  augur  well  for  the 
future. 

Ill 

Now  a  decisive  moment  arrived. 

"I've  estimated  pretty  carefully/'  said 
Peters;  "it  just  about  scrapes  under  your 
present  limit."  He  laughed  engagingly. 

The  precious  plans  (in  blue  print)  and 
the  indexed  specifications  (a  long,  type 
written  document,  neatly  bound  and  most 
impressive  to  Molly)  were  intrusted  to  five 
contractors,  and  in  the  course  of  time  their 
bids  came  in. 

"I've  got  bad  news  for  you,"  said  Wil 
son,  as  if  trying  to  break  it  gently.  "I 
thought  surely  we  had  the  thing  scaled 
down  to  our  figure,  but — "  he  quietly  held 
out  the  list  of  bids.  The  lowest  was  nearly 
fifteen  per  cent,  above  their  "appropria 
tion."  And  yet  Peters  had  laughed  at  the 
246 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

painter  for  not  being  practical.  Perhaps  the 
architect  had  made  some  mistake  in  his  es 
timates.  We  all  make  mistakes. 

There  was  a  moment's  painful  silence, 
the  library  clock  ticking  on  industriously, 
as  if  quite  confident  of  being  housed  in  any 
case. 

"Isn't  it  fierce,  the  way  building  materi 
als  keep  soaring?"  asked  Wilson. 

There  was  no  reply.  Fred  was  thinking 
that  Peters,  as  a  practical  man,  ought  to 
keep  a  little  better  track  of  the  soaring  up 
lift.  But  he  did  not  like  to  say  so  to  an 
old  friend,  and  before  Molly.  She  had 
taken  a  woman's  unaccountable  prejudice 
against  him,  as  it  was. 

"Oh,  of  course!"  sighed  Molly  at  last. 
"We  might  have  known  it."  She  had  sus 
pected  Wilson  from  the  start.  There  was 
now  no  doubt  in  her  mind  about  his  treach 
ery. 

"What's  to  be  done?"  broke  out  Fred, 
scowling.  "  What  else  can  we  scale  down  ? " 

The  architect  shook  his  head.  "I  don't 
think  it  will  stand  much  more  simplifica- 
247 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

tion,"  he  said.  "It's  either  this  or  begin 
all  over  again,  with  a  different  idea,  a  new 
plan  entirely." 

"But  we  must  have  a  house  to  move  into 
next  fall!"  cried  Molly  excitedly.  "Would 
there  be  time  to  plan  another?" 

"Maybe,"  said  the  architect  slowly. 

"Think  how  we've  worked  over  this  one 
all  winter,"  sighed  Fred. 

"I  know  it,"  said  Wilson.  He,  too,  had 
taken  pains — with  the  plans,  whether  with 
the  prices  or  not. 

"Besides,  this  is  the  house  we  want!" 
said  Molly.  "It  suits  us,  it's  grown  into 
our  hearts.  It  would  be  like  losing  a 
child." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Peters,  though  he  was 
a  bachelor. 

There  was  a  pause.  Molly  and  Fred 
exchanged  glances. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  go,"  said  Peters, 
tactfully  appraising  the  look.  "I  don't  want 
to  influence  you  one  way  or  the  other,"  he 
said,  turning  at  the  door;  "but  there's  one 
thing  worth  considering:  Brixton  Brothers 
248 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

— the  ones  who  made  the  lowest  bid — often 
take  jobs  on  a  percentage  basis  with  an 
upshot  figure.  It  saves  the  owner  consider 
able  money  sometimes." 

The  Carrolls  did  not  know  what  a  per 
centage  basis  meant. 

"Why,  simply  this:  They  agree  to  put 
up  a  house  according  to  the  plans  and 
specifications  for  what  it  costs  to  build, 
plus  ten  per  cent,  for  their  profit,  and  agree 
that  the  total  expense  won't  be  more  than 
a  certain  figure.  Their  upshot  figure  in  this 
case  would  be  this  amount  they  have  bid. 
Think  it  over." 

Well,  they  thought  it  over. 

Now,  it  had  been  Fred's  original  inten 
tion  not  to  touch  any  of  Molly's  money 
when  it  came  to  building  a  house.  A  part 
of  his  dream  was  to  pay  for  the  whole  thing 
himself  and  then  have  the  fun  of  deeding 
it  over  to  her  grandly.  But  that  was  ages 
ago,  before  they  consulted  an  architect. 

"Since  we've  already  touched  it,"  said 
Molly  convincingly,  "why  not  touch  it 
some  more  ?  We'll  probably  never  build 
249 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

but  once,  so  let's  build  what  we  want  in 
the  way  we  want  it.  Do  let's  avoid  say 
ing  afterward,  as  Uncle  Will  does,  and 
every  one  else  we  know  who  ever  built  a 
house,  'Now,  if  I  were  building  over  again 
I  would  do  thus  and  so." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Fred  thoughtfully, 
"that  most  people  have  to  enlarge  their 
houses  after  a  few  years,  and  that  usually 
spoils  the  symmetry.  But  I  won't  use  any 
more  of  your  money,"  he  added  firmly. 

"You  needn't,"  said  Molly.  "I  won't 
let  you.  I'm  going  to  use  it  myself.  You 
have  nothing  to  say  about  it."  She  knew 
how  much  he  wanted  the  house  as  designed, 
so  she  based  all  her  arguments  on  how 
much  she  wanted  it.  That  was  the  way  to 
work  them. 

"To  be  sure,"  mused  Fred,  "it  isn't  as 
if  we  had  to  keep  on  paying  studio  rent. 
Our  house  would  be  a  workshop  as  well  as 
a  home.  But " 

"Of  course,  if  it's  big  enough,"  inter 
rupted  Molly.  "Therefore,  we  must  have 
it  big  enough  or  it  can't  serve  both  pur- 
250 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

poses — and  so  we  couldn't  save  money,  you 
see!" 

"But,  all  the  same,"  maintained  Fred 
doggedly,  "if  I  can't  pay  for  it,  I  don't 
deserve  such  a  fine  house." 

"But  /  do,"  said  Molly,  looking  very 
piquant  and  adorable.  "Why  make  me 
suffer  for  your  sake  ?  You  want  all  the 
fun  of  designing  the  house  and  paying  for 
it  too.  I  think  I  have  some  rights."  S'he 
was  so  droll  and  pretty  as  she  said  this  that 
Fred  laughed  from  sheer  joy  of  her,  as  she 
intended  he  should,  and  leaned  over  and 
kissed  her,  as  she  hoped  he  would. 

"But  we  mustn't  think  of  it,"  he  said, 
sighing.  .  .  . 

But,  naturally,  that  is  just  what  they 
kept  on  doing,  with  the  not  very  surpris 
ing  result  that  within  twenty-four  hours 
they  had  signed  the  contract  to  build  the 
wonderful  house  on  the  promising  percent 
age  plan,  with  the  seductive  hope  that  the 
contractors  would  kindly  save  them  enough 
to  justify  their  recklessness. 

As  soon  as  they  had  taken  the  decisive 

2CX 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

step,  they  felt  a  sudden  wild  joy  in  their 
act.  They  stopped  worrying  over  whether 
they  could  afford  it  or  not.  Wisely  or  fool 
ishly,  they  were  going  to  have  a  place  in 
the  country!  A  house  all  their  own;  built 
expressly  for  them;  modelled  on  their  own 
ideas!  A  home  for  the  children  to  grow  up 
in,  for  themselves  to  grow  old  with! 
Their  dream  was  coming  true  at  last. 


252 


THE    DREAM    HOUSE— AND    THE 
NIGHTMARE 

SCENES:     On  the  Carroll  estate  and  on  the  Carroll  nerves. 

(A  CONTINUATION  OF  THE  ABOVE,  AND  A  CONCRETE 
EXAMPLE  OF  THE  INSIDIOUS  DELIGHTS  AND  DANGERS  OF 
BUILDING  CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR — WITH  ITS  AMUSING  RE 
ACTIONS  UPON  THE  CARROLLS,  WHO  ARE  FOES  OF  COM 
PROMISE.) 


THE  Fred  Carrolls  had  observed  that  the 
erection  of  State  capitols,  Carnegie  libraries 
and  other  important  edifices  was  inaugu 
rated  with  a  formal  ceremony  called,  "  Turn 
ing  up  the  first  sod."  Therefore,  since  their 
house  in  the  country  was  to  be  an  important 
edifice,  they  decided  to  have  a  ceremony. 

So  when  at  last  the  great  day  in  their  his 
tory  arrived,  toward  which  years  of  dream 
ing  and  designing  had  carried  them,  they 
253 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

honored  certain  intimate  friends  and  rela 
tives  with  an  invitation  to  witness  the  turn 
ing  up  of  their  first  sod  by  the  Carrolls'  first 
born,  appropriately  dressed  in  his  blue 
jumpers — which  seemed  more  suitable  to 
him  and  to  digging  than  the  frock  coat  and 
silk  hat  generally  worn  on  such  occasions  by 
his  fellow  turners-up  of  first  sods.  Since  he 
was  the  chief  cause  of  their  going  in  for 
building  a  little  country  place,  instead  of 
waiting  until  they  could  afford  a  big  one, 
it  was  no  more  than  fair  that  he  should  do 
this  much  of  the  work. 

But  when  it  came  to  the  formal  moment 
he  selfishly  refused  to  see  it  in  that  light. 
He  liked  the  nickel-plated  spade  well  enough, 
except  for  the  ribbons,  but  it  seemed  that 
he  was  not  given  to  digging  before  audi 
ences.  He  never  had  done  that  sort  of 
thing  and  he  never  would.  He  was  a  con 
servative,  like  a  true  Carroll.  Perhaps  that 
was  why  Aunt  Bella  beamed  upon  him. 
But  though  his  greatly  adoring  great-aunt 
was  telling  him  how  much  like  an  angel  he 
looked  in  his  darling  little  overalls,  his  re- 
254 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

spectful  uncles  focusing  cameras  upon  his 
darling  little  curls,  his  sentimental  grand 
parents  reminding  him  that  it  would  be  such 
a  nice  thing  to  recall  in  after  years,  he  de 
clined  to  proceed  with  the  ceremony.  (No 
wonder.) 

In  short,  he  threw  up  the  job,  threw 
down  the  spade,  and  took  refuge  under  the 
automobile  which  had  brought  him  out  into 
the  country.  He  had  long  intended  to  do 
a  bit  of  original  research  there  anyway,  and 
from  this  greasy  retreat,  whence  no  one 
could  conveniently  yank  him,  he  made  it 
quite  clear  that  he  did  not  care  a  hang 
whether  he  ever  had  a  nice  house  for  baby 
to  play  in  or  not,  and  refused  to  come  out 
until  bribed  with  a  box  of  candy.  Thus, 
at  the  very  start  of  their  building  operations, 
the  Carrolls  had  a  strike  on  their  hands. 

However,  the  guests,  except  Aunt  Bella, 
enjoyed  the  champagne  in  which  the  build 
ing  operations  were  toasted,  especially  the 
bachelors,  who  had  no  houses  or  children  to 
bother  with,  and  they  joked  Fred  upon  the 
conduct  of  his  progeny;  and  the  house  was 
255 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

begun,  at  any  rate.  That  was  the  main 
thing. 

It  was  actually  begun!  With  men  and 
teams  digging  up  the  ground  in  a  most 
oblivious,  business-like  manner,  quite  as 
if  it  were  to  be  a  real  house — but  it  was! 
And  that  seemed  the  most  astonishing  thing 
about  it.  This  house  was  no  longer  to  be 
merely  on  paper.  It  was  to  sprout  up  from 
the  ground  and  grow  and  find  itself  and  be 
come  a  home,  a  real  home  for  people  to  live 
in,  for  children  to  be  reared  in;  a  scene  for 
weddings  and  funerals  perhaps;  a  back 
ground  for  memories,  good  times  and  bad 
times,  the  humdrum  happenings  of  daily 
existence,  as  well  as  more  vivid  experiences 
occasionally,  which  together  make  the  sum 
of  life  and  cause  houses  to  be  so  much  more 
personal  and  important  than  mere  edifices  of 
sticks  and  stones  and  brick  and  plaster. 

Well,  now  that  work  was  actually  be 
gun,  the  Carrolls,  who  in  their  enthusiasm 
had  rented  a  place  near  by,  believed  that 
their  troubles  were  over  at  last.  All  they 
had  to  do  now  was  to  lean  back  and  watch 
256 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

the  beautiful  thing  grow — just  as  they  had 
taken  for  granted  at  "the"  wedding,  years 
ago,  that  nothing  could  ever  make  much 
difference  to  them  again,  nothing  in  life 
could  ever  come  between  them,  because  at 
last  they  were  together  till  death. 

How  many  innocent  home  builders  have 
made  the  same  mistake !  Their  real  troubles 
had  only  just  begun.  Also  their  real  fun, 
for  that  matter. 

II 

For  a  while  it  grew  with  astonishing 
rapidity.  The  wonderful  cellar  was  ex 
cavated  with  the  greatest  ease  and  hardly 
any  occasion  for  blasting.  "That  means," 
said  Fred  enthusiastically,  "that  we  are 
saving  money!  Blasting  is  very  expensive. 
The  contractor  says  he  figured  on  blasting 
in  his  original  bid.  Weren't  we  clever  to 
build  on  a  percentage  basis?  Bah!  We 
can  be  as  business-like  as  anybody  when  we 
make  up  our  minds  to  it.  It's  only  that, 
usually,  there  are  more  important  things  to 
think  about." 

257 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"Yes,"  said  Molly;  "only,  do  you  think  it 
necessary  for  them  to — do  that  so  often?" 
She  indicated  a  workman  spitting  impiously 
into  their  cellar.  Apparently  the  workman 
failed  to  realize  that  this  was  potentially  a 
lady's  house.  But  copious  spitting  seemed 
to  be  a  necessary  accompaniment  to  honest 
workmanship,  and  so  the  Carrolls  gener 
ously  overlooked  it  in  the  joy  of  their  sense 
of  possession.  Here  was  a  visible,  tangible 
piece  of  the  world,  all  their  own. 

"Let's  take  a  stroll  over  the  estate,"  Fred 
would  say  grandly. 

"Shall  we  cross  the  moors  to-day?" 
Molly  would  ask.  That  was  the  level  plot 
where  the  tennis  court  was  planned.  "Or 
wander  down  to  the  game  preserve?" 
That  was  the  south-east  corner  of  the  lot 
where  the  bushes  were  thick.  They  also 
possessed  a  copse,  it  seemed,  but  there 
were  no  fens.  It  was  too  bad  about  the 
fens,  but  they  couldn't  have  everything. 
If  they  had  everything  they  would  miss 
the  luxury  of  desire,  and  that  would  be 
the  worst  thing  in  the  world 
258 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

For  the  most  part  they  lingered  near  the 
hole  in  the  ground  where  the  house  itself 
was  going  to  be,  each  thinking  how  it  would 
gradually  dawn  upon  them,  like  one  of 
Fred's  carefully  studied  portraits.  Besides, 
it  was  interesting,  as  holes  go,  and  Fred  pro 
nounced  the  excavated  earth  of  a  swell  color. 
He  took  a  clod  of  this  swell  dirt  back  to  his 
studio  in  town  and  asked  some  of  his  friends 
if  they  did  not  think  it  swell.  They  said 
they  did. 

But  there  was  one  thing  which  troubled 
them  both  at  this  time,  though  each,  hop 
ing  that  the  other  did  not  notice  it,  kept 
silent  about  it,  after  the  foolish  manner 
of  many  married  people,  especially  young 
ones.  They  feared  that  some  dreadful,  ir 
reparable  mistake  had  been  made;  the  out 
line  of  the  house  as  shown  by  the  founda 
tion  was  so  disillusionizingly  diminutive. 
Such  is  always  the  effect,  of  course,  at  this 
stage  of  house  building,  but  no  one  had 
prepared  them  for  it,  as  is  the  case  with 
many  unnecessary  little  disillusionments  in 
life  which  would  not  hurt  so  if  only  the 
259 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

older  generation  took  the  trouble  to  explain 
to  the  younger  generation  in  advance.  Per 
haps  they  consider  it  "destroying  the  ideals 
of  youth.'*5  Perhaps  they  merely  forget. 

Well,  it  got  on  Molly's  nerves  so  badly 
one  night  that  she  could  not  sleep.  So, 
arising  at  dawn,  she  dressed  quietly  and 
tiptoed  down-stairs  so  as  not  to  disturb 
Fred  in  the  next  room.  Then,  having  spent 
five  minutes  in  a  vain  search  for  the  long 
tape  measure  (already  purchased  for  mark 
ing  out  the  tennis  court),  and  finally  com 
promising  with  her  ideal  upon  a  short  one, 
old-fashioned  and  well-worn,  in  the  sew 
ing-machine  drawer,  she  crept  stealthily  out 
of  the  house  and  across  the  dewy  lawn  to 
measure  that  foundation  and  settle  the 
matter  once  and  for  all.  But  when  she  ar 
rived  at  the  scene  of  disillusionment,  there 
was  Fred,  leaning  over,  absorbedly  meas 
uring  the  foundations  with  the  long  tape 
measure. 

uWhat  are  you  doing?" 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"Nothing." 

260 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Nothing." 

Each  looked  at  the  other's  tape  measure, 
and  then  at  the  other's  eyes  a  moment,  and 
burst  out  laughing.  Wilson  Peters,  the 
architect,  arriving  that  day,  put  their  minds 
at  rest  by  explaining  the  optical  illusion. 

Lumber  arrived,  a  gang  of  carpenters 
came,  the  heavy  timbers  were  set  up,  the 
frame  of  the  house  fairly  flew  together,  like 
Wendy's  house  in  the  second  act  of  "  Peter 
Pan."  With  the  merry  music  of  rhythmic 
hammering,  the  delightful  odor  of  clean 
lumber,  not  to  speak  of  the  prospects  of 
limitless  kindlings  for  the  new  house,  these 
were  happy  days. 

"You're  going  to  have  a  mighty  tight, 
well-built  house,  Mr.  Carroll,"  said  the 
contractor's  superintendent. 

"We  believe  in  having  'em  tight,"  nodded 
Fred,  with  a  wink  at  Molly,  who  was  smiling 
at  his  attempt  to  sound  practical. 

"At  the  present  rate,"  said  Wilson  Pe 
ters,  who  seemed  to  be  paying  particular 
attention  to  this  job;  "at  the  present  rate, 
your  house  ought  to  be  turned  over  to  you 
261 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

by  September  first/'     That  meant  a  month 
ahead*  of  the  contract. 

"Nothing  like  having  a  friend  for  your 
architect/'  said  Fred  to  Molly. 

"Yes,  he  takes  such  a  personal  interest!" 
said  Molly  to  Fred.  But  how  could  he  help 
it,  they  both  thought.  Houses  like  this 
weren't  built  every  day. 

When  the  ridge-pole  was  erected,  there 
was  another  ceremony,  a  treat  for  the  work 
men,  called,  "topping  the  cedar  brush." 
The  Carrolls,  having  become  landed  pro 
prietors,  believed  in  encouraging  these 
quaint  old  guild  customs.  It  took  place  on 
a  Saturday  half-holiday.  One  of  the  men 
climbed  up  and  nailed  a  young  cedar  tree 
to  the  end  of  the  ridge-pole.  Thereupon  a 
keg  of  beer  was  opened,  which  Fred  had 
ordered  for  them,  along  with  a  box  of 
cigars  and  an  enormous  number  of  sand 
wiches.  It  was  served  in  the  dining-room, 
or  what  was  eventually  to  be  a  dining-room. 
"Here's  to  Mr.  Carroll,"  said  the  superin 
tendent,  raising  a  foaming  beaker;" may  he 
live  long  and  be  happy  in  his  new  house!" 
262 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Fred  didn't  feel  so  much  like  a  landed 
proprietor  when  it  came  to  making  a  speech, 
but  he  said  he  was  very  glad  to  have  as  his 
first  guests  in  the  new  house  the  men  who 
were  building  it,  and  building  it  so  well. 
He  told  them  how  much  he  respected  honest 
workmen  who  took  a  pride  in  their  work. 
Then,  fearing  lest  this  sounded  patronizing, 
he  added  that  he  knew  what  he  was  talk 
ing  about,  because  he,  too,  toiled  with 
his  hands  and  knew  the  joy  of  "making 
things  come  out  the  way  you  want  them 
to." 

They  thought  his  hands  didn't  look  much 
like  it,  but  didn't  mind  his  thinking  so  if  he 
wanted  to,  and  considered  him  all  right  for 
setting  up  the  beer,  especially  as  he  straight 
way  departed  and  left  them  to  the  uncon 
strained  enjoyment  of  it. 

Ill 

After  this  came  a  period  of  stagnation 

Molly  said  the  beer  must  have  made  them 

logy.     The  frame,   having  shot  up   like  a 

mushroom,  now  hesitated  as  if  wondering 

263 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

what  to  do  next.  Finally  the  work  stopped 
altogether. 

"Another  damn  strike,"  said  the  super 
intendent.  "They  were  planning  it  while 
drinking  your  beer  in  your  dining-room, 
Mr.  Carroll.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  the 
honest  workman  and  his  pride  in  his  work. 
Huh!  The  only  pride  they  take  is  in  the 
amount  of  work  they  can  get  out  of  doing. 
I've  had  twenty  years'  experience  and  I 
know" 

"Is  that  why  they  got  indignant  when 
my  servants  gathered  up  some  of  those 
odds  and  ends  for  kindling  the  other  day  ?" 
asked  Fred. 

The  superintendent  smiled.  He  had 
heard  about  the  kindling  episode.  "Well, 
you  see,  it's  a  sort  of  permitted  graft  in  the 
trade  for  the  foreman  to  have  all  that. 
They  consider  it  their  right." 

Here  was  another  fine  old  guild  custom 
to  be  encouraged  by  landed  proprietors. 

"Yes,  I  noticed  that  he  brought  a  horse 
and  wagon  here  the  next  day,"  said  Fred, 
"and  carted  it  off  right  under  my  eyes.  I 
264 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

merely  have  the  ancient  proprietary  priv 
ilege  of  paying  for  it,  I  suppose. "  The 
privileged  class  seldom  sympathizes  fully 
with  the  proletariat. 

The  strike  was  finally  adjusted,  and  Mr. 
Carroll  was  assured  that  the  house  would 
be  turned  over  to  him  "soon  after"  the 
middle  of  October.  (That,  he  learned  later, 
i?  one  of  their  favorite  expressions.)  "  Why, 
we're  just  as  anxious  as  you  are  to  check 
this  job  off/'  they  assured  him  plausibly. 
(That  is  another.) 

Then  later  it  was  "a  mistake  in  some  of 
the  material.  We  had  to  send  it  all  back. 
It  isn't  our  fault."  It  never  was,  apparently, 
the  fault  of  any  one  visible. 

Meanwhile,  Peters,  who  in  the  earlier 
stages  seemed  almost  as  keen  as  the  Carrolls 
themselves,  gradually  manifested  less  in 
terest  in  their  house,  now  that  he  had  had 
his  fun  out  of  designing  and  starting  the 
thing.  He  was  given  to  telling  them  at 
length  about  this  and  that  important  com 
petition  he  had  won,  while  they  wanted  him 
to  talk  about  their  own  important  house  and 
265 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

to  rush  it  through  so  they  could  live  in  it 
next  fall.  The  lease  on  the  place  they  were 
occupying  expired  on  October  first.  They 
had  confidently  declined  to  extend  it  to  No 
vember  first  when  they  had  the  chance. 
("Oh,  no,  we'll  be  living  in  our  own  home 
by  that  time!"  they  had  remarked.) 

"Look  here,"  said  Fred  to  the  architect, 
"we  appreciate  that  you  are  pretty  busy 
just  now  with  all  these  more  important  un 
dertakings;  what  would  you  say  to  getting 
a  superintendent  to  oversee  our  work  ? 
That's  often  done,  and  I'd  gladly  pay  for 
his  services.  These  contractors  have  to  be 
watched  all  the  time.  I'm  convinced  that 
they  are  skimping  our  work.  I  told  you 
how  I  caught  them  leaving  out  the  deafen 
ing  paper  between  the  floors." 

Peters  did  not  like  this.  His  profes 
sional  pride  was  touched.  "Well,  didn't  I 
make  'em  rip  up  the  floor  and  put  it  in?" 
he  asked.  "No,  I'll  superintend  my  own 
work,  Fred.  That's  what  you're  paying  me 
for,  old  chap.  They  can't  fool  me.  They 
all  say  I  have  an  eye  like  an  eagle.  Look  at 
266 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

your  concrete  floor  in  the  cellar,  for  instance. 
Didn't  I  make  them  rip  it  out,  the  whole 
thing?  Didn't  I  jump  all  over  them?" 

This  was  true;  he  had  made  a  most  in 
teresting  fuss  over  that,  but  it  was  also  true 
that,  as  the  house  was  being  constructed  on 
a  cost  basis,  the  owner  would  have  to  pay 
for  that  extra  work.  But  Fred  didn't  like 
to  remind  Wilson  of  things  of  this  sort;  it 
was  so  distasteful.  Besides,  Fred  had  been 
gathering  in  such  whacking  large  prices  for 
his  canvases  lately — so  what  was  the  dif 
ference! 

The  architect's  visits  became  less  and 
less  frequent,  more  and  more  hurried.  He 
kept  the  carriage  from  the  station  waiting 
while  he  stalked  through  the  house  in  a  blus 
tering  manner,  scowling  and  swearing  oc 
casionally,  as  if  to  impress  Fred  with  his 
thoroughness,  then  was  off  again  to  the 
train  in  a  great  hurry,  both  vehicles  to  be 
charged  to  travelling  expenses  in  his  bill  to 
the  Carrolls. 

In  justice  to  the  architect  it  should  be 
stated  that  the  Carrolls'  house  had  reached 
267 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

a  stage  where  such  constant  attention  was 
not  necessary,  but  the  Carrolls  did  not 
think  so.  They  had  never  built  a  house  be 
fore,  and  it  was  something  like  their  first 
baby;  they  had  wanted  the  doctor  to 
spend  all  his  time  with  them.  So  Molly 
now  declared  that  she  never  had  liked  that 
man  and  told  Fred  that  he  ought  to  write 
and  prod  him  up  for  neglecting  them  so. 
"This  is  a  business  relationship,  and  you 
mustn't  let  your  friendship  stand  in  the 
way.  You  owe  it  to  your  wife  and  children 
to  have  this  house  well  built/'  she  urged 
shaking  her  pretty  head. 

"  You'd  think,"  swore  Peters  to  his  part 
ner  when  the  letter  came,  "that  I  had  noth 
ing  to  do  but  watch  the  driving  of  every  nail 
in  that  one  little  house!  It's  becoming  a 


nuisance.'3 


But  he  ought  to  have  been  used  to  it. 
That  was  usually  the  way.  Each  home 
builder  thinks  his  house  the  most  impor 
tant  one  in  the  world.  So  it  is,  to  him. 

Then,  having  finished  swearing,  Peters 
wrote  a  lovely  letter  telling  them  he  "knew 
268 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

exactly  how  they  felt  about  it,"  or  rather, 
he  called  out  to  his  stenographer,  "Give 
them  Jolly  Number  Two,  and  add  that  I'll 
be  there  to  take  up  all  these  matters  in  de 
tail  next  Tuesday." 

"Did  you  say  Thursday,  sir?" 
"Either  will  do — just  so  you  remember 
to  follow  it  up  with  a  telegram  postponing 
my  visit  on  account  of  an  important  confer 
ence  in  Boston." 

Meanwhile  there  had  come  the  question 
of  "extras."  The  Carrolls,  like  many  in 
nocent  home  builders,  thought  that  the 
contract  price — in  this  case,  the  "upshot 
figure" —covered  everything  necessary  for 
a  home  to  live  in  except  the  furniture.  The 
furnace  was  extra,  the  kitchen  range  was 
extra,  the  electric  light  fixtures  were  extra, 
even  the  mantel-pieces  were  extra.  But,  in 
addition  to  these  necessary  extras,  there 
were  many  others  very  desirable — a  glass 
enclosure  for  the  covered  veranda  in  cold 
weather,  a  latticed  enclosure  for  drying  the 
clothes,  adjoining  the  laundry  and  incor 
porated  with  the  lines  of  the  house.  "As 
269 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

long  as  we  can't  have  a  stable  and  a  stable 
yard,"  said  Fred,  "we  can  at  least  use  a 
drying  ground.  That  will  help  the  long, 
low  effect  and  let  the  house  down  easily 
on  that  side." 

"And  keep  us  from  washing  our  dirty 
linen  in  public,"  said  Molly. 

They  denied  themselves  the  extravagance 
of  spending  five  dollars  on  the  theatre  one 
evening,  and  cheerfully  agreed  to  five  hun 
dred  dollars'  worth  of  extras  the  next  morn 
ing.  When  you  are  spending  thousands 
such  amounts  are  mere  trifles. 

But  Molly  had  become  convinced  that 
Peters  was  "working"  Fred.  "Every  one 
does,  you  know.  You  are  always  so  guile 
less  and  good-natured  with  your  friends." 
(And  yet  this  man  thought  he  had  an  origi 
nal  wife!)  "Wilson  knew  you  could  never 
resist  the  color  of  that  dreadfully  expensive 
imported  tile  for  the  fireplaces." 

Fred  laughed  at  her.     But  upon  think 
ing  it  over,  he  concluded  that  he  was,  per 
haps,  a  little  too  good-natured  (an  original 
husband  also,  you  observe),  and  after  brood- 
270 


Then  the  architect  wrote  the  Carrolls  a  lovely  letter,  or  rather,  he 
called  to  his  stenographer,  "Jolly  Number  Twol" 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

ing  over  it  awhile  became  quite  indignant 
over  the  matter;  would  not  let  anybody  im 
pose  on  him,  old  friend  or  not,  etc. 

The  situation  meanwhile  had  become  this: 
work  on  the  interior  was  almost  at  a  stand 
still;  the  contractor  swore  he  could  not  pro 
ceed  a  step  further  until  he  received  the  "de 
tail"  from  the  architect;  the  architect  swore 
he  could  not  supply  the  detail  (designs  for 
the  trim)  until  the  owner  passed  upon  them; 
the  owner  swore  he  could  not  O.  K.  them 
when  they  were  so  damned  fancy.  (They 
had  all  reached  the  swearing  stage  by  this 
time.) 

"For  Heaven's  sake,"  he  demanded  of 
Peters,  "why  can't  you  do  something  sim 
ple  and  unassertive!  This  is  neither  a  bar 
room  nor  a  barber  shop." 

"No,"  snarled  back  Peters,  horribly  in 
sulted,  forgetting  at  last  to  be  suave,  "but 
it  would  be  a  barn  if  I  let  you  have  your 
way." 

"Well,   I'd  rather  have  a  barn  than  a 
bird-cage!"    returned   the  owner.     "Some 
of  the  most  charming  houses  in  this  whole 
271 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

nouveau  riche  country  of  ours  have  been 
made  out  of  barns"  he  went  on,  taking  the 
matter  seriously;  "charming,  I  said,  not  im 
pressive"  with  tremendous  scorn.  "That 
seems  to  be  your  chief  asset  as  an  architect — 
to  make  everything  look  as  expensive  as 
you  know  how,  with  your  silly  little  Renais 
sance  dib-dabs,  your  barroque  redundancy, 
and  all  the  rest  of  your  esthetically  impover 
ished  .  but  blatantly  pecuniary  canons  of 
taste."  Fred  was  one  of  the  exasperating 
kind  who  become  low-voiced  and  long- 
sentenced  when  aroused. 

"Taste!"  roared  the  incensed  architect, 
"when  it  comes  to  a  matter  of  taste,  I  guess 
my  standing  in  my  profession 

"But  I'd  like  to  know/'  interrupted  the 
painter  calmly,  "whose  profession  is  to  be 
represented  in  this  house  ?  Whose  taste 
ought  to  be  considered  here  anyway  ? — 
yours  or  mine?" 

"It  happens  to  be  my  work!"  shouted  the 
architect. 

"It  happens  to  be  my  bouse!"  whispered 
the  owner. 

272 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

A  pause,  both  glaring. 

"Well,  then,  why  did  you  call  me  in  if 
you  don't  like  my  ideas?" 

"Simply  to  carry  out  my  own  ideas. 
IVe  taste  enough  myself." 

"Yes,  Mots  of  taste/  "  quoted  the  archi 
tect  with  a  sneer.  "'Some  of  it  good." 

At  this  point  entered  Mrs.  Carroll,  look 
ing  very  sweet  in  her  new  calling  costume 
and  feeling  the  peace  with  the  world  which 
comes  only  from  making  half  a  dozen  calls 
upon  people  who  are  out.  Seeing  how 
crestfallen  the  architect  looked  and  know 
ing  how  dreadful  it  was  to  suffer  Fred's 
disapproval,  she  sprang  to  the  rescue  of 
the  situation  with  a  woman's  unerring 
tact. 

"Oh,  Wilson,"  she  said  in  her  most  gra 
cious  manner,  "I  think  you  are  doing  won 
ders  with  our  house.  It  is  so  dignified  and 
restrained." 

Wilson  shot  a  look  of  restrained  triumph 
at  Fred,  and  made  a  dignified  exit,  pleased 
with  her  and  himself.  "Little  Mrs.  Car 
roll  is  a  corker,"  he  remarked  that  evening 
273 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

in  town;  "but  Fred's  the  limit.  No  more 
crazy  artists  for  me!" 

Meanwhile,  Fred  was  taking  it  out  upon 
his  tender,  tactful  wife.  'That's  right,  egg 
me  on,  get  me  mad,  make  me  jump  on  him, 
and  then  come  in  and  praise  everything  in 
sight!"  And  so  to  the  logical  climax  of 
tears,  retractions,  kisses,  forgiveness,  and 
finally  laughter,  which  might  well  have 
come  first  and  saved  that  much  expensive 
emotion. 

Well,  in  the  end  they  did  have  Wilson's 
trim — and  trimmings — which  he  pronounced 
simple  because  inexpensive,  and  which 
Fred  considered  evil  because  it  tried  to  look 
expensive.  But  he  had  had  his  own  way 
about  so  many  things  that,  in  order  to  re 
store  pleasant  feelings,  he  gracefully  yielded 
even  to  the  little  Renaissance  dib-dabs  Wil 
son  enjoyed  sticking  on  under  his  mantel 
pieces.  Most  of  them  dropped  off,  anyway, 
when  the  heat  was  turned  on. 

Thus  the  comedy  proceeded. 


274 


THE  FREDERIC  CARROLLS 

IV 

The  house  had  been  promised  for  Octo 
ber  the  first.  Was  ever  a  house  finished  on 
schedule  time,  or  for  the  estimated  price  ? 
(Yes.  It  has  been  known  to  happen;  but 
this  was  to  be  a  typical  experience!) 

By  the  middle  of  November  the  Car- 
rolls  had  visited  all  their  available  rela 
tives  (who  would  have  enjoyed  "the  Freds" 
more  if  they  had  only  talked  about  "our 
house"  less).  The  house  was  still  "not 
quite  finished."  So  they  conceived  the  idea 
of  moving  into  it  without  waiting  for  it  to 
be  finished,  and  remarked,  originally,  as 
impatient  home  builders  always  do  in  tak 
ing  this  step,  "That  is  the  only  way  to  get 
the  workmen  out." 

"And  I  can  keep  those  blamed  painters 
from  bungling  the  color  of  the  woodwork," 
said  Fred.  "Since  that  man  Peters  abso 
lutely  declines  to  attend  to  his  business,  I 
suppose  I'll  have  to  do  it  myself." 

"And  I  can  see  that  we  get  the  shelves 
put  up  in  the  bath-rooms.  He  will  never 
remember  it." 

27S 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

So,  upon  a  bright  November  afternoon 
the  Carroll  family  moved  into  the  upper 
stories  of  their  newly  painted  house.  "It's 
like  camping  out/'  suggested  Molly,  trying 
to  seem  cheerful. 

"Yes,  with  all  the  discomforts  and  none 
of  the  charm,"  growled  Fred,  awakened 
early  by  the  banging  and  scraping  of  the 
finishers. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  that,"  said  Molly,  "if 
only  the  painters  wouldn't  whistle  when 
Babs  takes  her  nap." 

"It's  probably  one  of  their  ancient  cus 
toms,"  Fred  reminded  her.. 

However,  the  studio  was  in  shape  for 
use — and  there  was  the  best  of  reasons  for 
industry  now — but,  unfortunately,  the  for 
mer  superintendent  had  gone  to  a  more  im 
portant  job,  and  the  contractor  had  put  in 
charge  of  finishing  the  Carroll  house  a  red- 
cheeked  youth  just  back  from  Paris,  who 
could  draw  pretty  pictures  of  cathedrals, 
but  knew  nothing  about  screwing  on  back 
doors.  So  while  Fred  was  trying  to  earn 
money  to  pay  for  the  extras,  this  young 
276 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

man  would  enter  without  knocking  (no  one 
knocks  on  unfinished  doors)  and  ask  Fred's 
confidential  advice  about  hanging  window 
weights.  He  did  not  dare  ask  the  men, 
for  fear  they  would  laugh  at  him.  Finally 
Fred  became  desperate.  "See  here/'  he 
began  with  slow,  drawling  sarcasm,  "I 
would  like  to  teach  you  your  job  if  I  had  the 
time  and  understood  your  job.  But  as  I'm 
almost  as  ignorant  as  you  are,  and  as  I've 
got  to  pay  for  your  work  whether  I  do  it 
for  you  or  not,  don't  you  think  it  would 
be  rather  nice  in  you  to  give  me  a  chance 
to  earn  enough  money  for  the  purpose  ? 
Think  it  over  and  let  me  know." 

The  youth  blinked  at  this  complicated 
subtlety,  and  departed.  He  never  bothered 
Fred  again,  but  every  time  they  met  on  the 
stairs  he  blinked. 

But  the  longer  the  house  remained  nearly 
finished  the  longer  it  took,  apparently,  to 
finish  it. 

Finally  the  Carrolls  ceased  to  make  sar 
castic  remarks  about  it.  It  no  longer 
seemed  funny.  It  became  the  greatest  mis- 
277 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

take  they  had  ever  made  in  their  lives. 
They  tacitly  agreed  to  ignore  the  once  ab 
sorbing  topic,  as  though  it  were  a  skeleton 
in  one  of  their  unfinished  closets.  And  if 
the  architect  or  builder  presumed  to  call 
upon  them  in  regard  to  the  coloring  of  the 
woodwork  or  the  arrangement  of  electric 
bells,  they  flew  into  a  rage  and  insulted  him. 
"How  dare  you  mention  such  a  thing  in 
the  presence  of  my  wife  and  myself!"  Fred's 
manner  seemed  to  express.  Yet  if  the  ar 
chitect  or  builder  dared  to  go  ahead  with 
out  consulting  them  they  flew  into  another 
rage.  The  house  was  on  their  nerves. 

One  day  a  young  couple,  in  whom  the 
Carrolls  had  previously  manifested  the  be 
nign  interest  which  those  happily  married 
are  apt  to  bestow  upon  those  trying  to  be, 
came  to  call  and  announced  innocently  that 
they  too  were  thinking  of  building  in  the 
spring.  It  was  said  with  almost  the  same 
confident  joy  with  which  they  had  once 
announced  their  engagement  (saying  "we 
want  you  to  know  it  among  the  first.")  But 
instead  of  the  enthusiastic  congratulations 

278 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

they  had  expected  from  such  nice,  generous- 
minded  friends,  Molly  sighed  and  said: 
"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,"  and  Fred  took  the 
young  man  apart  and  whispered  in  a  tragic 
tremolo,  "For  God's  sake,  my  boy,  think! 
— think  what  you  are  doing! 

"There  is  only  one  satisfactory  way  to 
build  a  house,"  he  went  on,  quite  in  earnest, 
apparently.  "First  become  an  architect  for 
several  years,  then  a  practical  builder  for 
several  more,  then  learn  each  of  the  build 
ing  trades  in  turn  until  you  become  a  master 
of  all  of  them;  after  that,  if  you  have  plenty 
of  born  executive  ability  and  a  good  deal  of 
bull  luck,  you  may  possibly  get  what  you 
want,  built  in  the  way  you  want  it — if  it's  a 
house  you  require  by  that  time  and  not  a 
mausoleum." 

This  was  while  the  Carrolls  were  living, 
at  great  expense,  at  the  inn,  and  daily  post 
poned  moving  to  a  less  costly  boarding  place 
because  it  was  hardly  worth  while  moving 
when  the  house  was  "so  nearly"  finished. 

It  was  not  because  the  children  played 
with  the  floor  planers'  tools,  nor  yet  en- 
279 


THE    MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

tirely  because  the  smell  of  fresh  paint  made 
them  ill,  that  the  Carrolls  had  finally  given 
up  the  fight  and  decamped.  It  was  be 
cause  of  the  construction  of  the  furnace 
fresh-air  flue.  The  hot  and  cold  water 
pipes  ran  along  the  cellar  ceiling  at  right 
angles  to  the  direction  of  this  proposed  flue 
on  the  blue-print.  Therefore,  one  day  when 
Fred  wasn't  watching,  the  honest  workmen 
desirous  of  that  "joy  of  making  things 
come  out  the  way  you  want  them  to," 
thoughtfully  built  a  fresh  air  box  with  the 
pipes  running  through  it,  thus  subjecting 
them  to  a  temperature  a  little  colder  than 
out-of-doors.  With  the  third  week  of  De 
cember  came  a  cold  snap.  Result — unnec 
essary  to  describe,  also  impossible.  .  .  . 

In  after  days,  when  the  house  found  it 
self  and  became  a  joy  to  them;  when, 
covered  with  vines  and  the  tone  of  time, 
it  rested  innocently  upon  its  placid  terrace 
with  the  guileless  expression  of  a  child 
peacefully  dreaming  in  its  cradle,  little 
knowing  how  it  had  caused  a  brave  woman 
to  weep,  a  strong  man  to  swear — -in  those 
280 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

serene  after  days  the  Carrolls  sometimes 
inquired  of  friends  who  came  to  visit  them 
there  if  they,  too,  had  ever  gone  through  the 
ordeal  of  house  building.  And  if,  perchance, 
the  answer  was  yes,  there  straightway  sprang 
up  a  strong  bond  of  mutual  interest  and 
sympathy — as  with  those  who  also  had  little 
dears,  at  home — and  they  looked  upon  one 
another  with  a  new  understanding.  They, 
too,  had  been  through  it.  They,  too,  had 
suffered.  They,  too,  knew  the  joys,  the  sor 
rows,  and  the  sacrifices. 

This  is  anticipating,  but  without  antici 
pation  even  worse  ordeals  than  mere  house 
building  would  prove  unbearable.  .  .  . 

After  rescuing  his  family  from  the  "not 
quite  finished/'  but  now  quite  flooded  house 
(for,  of  course,  the  frozen  water  pipes  burst), 
Fred  called  a  conference  of  the  powers. 
He  spoke  well-chosen  words  to  them.  They 
were  chiefly  of  quaint  Anglo-Saxon  origin. 

The  architect  dropped  his  eyes  and 
agreed  with  everything  the  owner  said,  but 
blamed  the  general  contractor.  The  gen 
eral  contractor  blamed  the  plumbing  con- 
281 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

tractor,  the  latter  the  youthful  superintend 
ent,  etc.,  as  usual,  all  down  the  line. 

It  was  a  long  wrangle,  and  it  was  get 
ting  nowhere.  Meanwhile  time  was  flying. 
Suddenly  they  were  all  interrupted  by  the 
owner  hammering  upon  the  unfinished  book 
case  for  silence.  "Gentlemen/'  said  Carroll 
with  the  sanctified  calm  of  one  who  is  be 
yond  emotion,  "you  are  all  mistaken.  It's 
not  his  fault,  nor  his,  nor  his,"  pointing  to 
each  of  these  practical  men.  "It's  all  my 
fault,  for  being  fool  enough  to  build  a 
house.  Now  that  point  is  all  settled,  sup 
pose  you  get  busy  and  'check  off'  this  job." 
Then  suddenly  breaking  out  with  a  good- 
natured  chuckle  which  cleared  the  air  and 
made  them  like  him:  "I'm  still  hoping  to 
celebrate  my  golden  wedding  in  this  house." 

With  that  he  left  and  joined  his  family  at 
the  (very  expensive)  inn,  whither  he  had 
previously  despatched  them.  There,  sink 
ing  luxuriously  into  a  deep  chair  before  a 
cheerful  fire,  he  lit  a  cigar,  stroked  his  fond 
wife's  hand  and,  sighing,  said,  "There's  no 
place  like  home,  let  us  be  thankful  for  that!" 
282 


VI 

THE    CARROLLS'    HOUSE- 
WARMING 

SCENES:     Partly  in  the  past,  partly  at  "  The  Meadows  " 
(proper  name  of  a  house  called  "  The  Carrolls'  "). 

(SHOWING  HOW  A  HOME  FOUND  ITSELF,  AND  SUGGEST 
ING  HOW  THE  CARROLLS  FOUND  THEMSELVES — AN  ESTAB 
LISHED  UNIT  IN  A  CONSERVATIVE  CIRCLE  OF  THE  NICEST 
PEOPLE.) 


LIKE  many  another  cherished  project 
idealized  in  the  planning  and  then  worried 
over  in  the  execution  until  it  no  longer 
seems  a  beautiful  dream  but  a  haunting 
nightmare,  when  at  last  the  painters  had 
exhausted  their  excuses  for  hanging  on, 
and  the  shavings  and  sawdust  were  all  swept 
up,  and  the  architect  actually  gave  the  word 
to  come — the  Carrolls'  house,  when  it  was 
finished  and  had  begun  to  find  itself,  turned 
out  to  be  a  great  success  after  all. 
283 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

So,  like  that  tenderest  of  emotions,  a  re 
newal  of  love  (as  when  Fred  and  Molly  had 
begun  the  interesting  process  of  finding 
themselves),  a  brand-new  joy  was  found  in 
their  brand-new  house,  the  more  appre 
ciated  because  so  utterly  unexpected.  They 
had  abandoned  all  hope  of  its  ever  being 
charming  or  even  a  matter  of  interest:  they 
thought  it  would  remain  only  a  matter  of 
expense  and  regret,  and  now  here  it  was, 
serenely  what  they  had  wanted  all  along! 

The  best  things  of  life  are  apt  to  arrive  by 
means  of  this  three-cycle  process:  First,  de 
sire  and  dreams;  then  disillusionment  and 
distress — sometimes  despair;  and  then,  at 
last,  with  patience  and  intelligent  effort,  a 
final  adjustment  to  reality,  with  its  humors, 
and  its  ironies,  and  its  solid,  secure  satis 
factions. 

They  had  given  up  so  many  important 
ideals  in  the  compromise  with  reality  that 
they  had  quite  forgotten  that,  as  an  actual, 
concrete  realization,  the  plan  and  equipment 
of  their  home  fitted  their  requirements  like 
a  glove,  and  satisfied  their  taste  as  no  other 
284 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

• 
house  in  the  world  could.     In  quarrelling 

with  Wilson  Peters  about  the  carving  on 
the  mantel-pieces  they  had  lost  sight  of  the 
delightful  fact  that  they  would  have  plenty 
of  open  fires.  In  fretting  about  the  handles 
of  the  water  faucets  they  had  failed  to  ap 
preciate  that,  at  any  rate,  they  had  plenty 
of  bath-rooms  and  a  down-stairs  lavatory! 
Moreover,  it  was  a  well-constructed  house, 
of  good  materials  and  careful  workmanship. 
They  experienced  that  other  most  pleasing 
glow  that  comes  of  trying  on  a  well-ordered, 
well-fitting  garment  of  the  best  materials, 
a  satisfaction  no  ready-made  one  can  ever 
give.  The  buttons  didn't  matter. 

Exteriorly  the  house  composed  well,  it 
fitted  into  the  landscape  well,  looked  as  if 
it  belonged  there,  had  taken  root  there  al 
ready  and  meant  to  stay. 

To  be  sure,  the  place  was  as  yet  quite 
bare  of  grass,  and  the  hedges  were  patheti 
cally  incipient,  and  the  house  itself  cried 
aloud  for  vines.  But  in  time  all  these 
things  would  be  added  unto  it. 

Of  course,  there  was  still  a  great  deal  to 
28  < 


THE    MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

be  done  by  way  of  transforming  this  new, 
raw  building,  with  its  lingering  odor  of 
paint,  into  a  livable  house  with  the  atmos 
phere  of  home;  this  naked  grading  with  its 
bleak  and  scraggly  planting,  into  gardens, 
tennis  courts,  and  a  bit  of  "pure  land 
scape."  But  they  no  longer  took  it  hard 
or  worried  about  it,  because  they  were  com 
fortable  and  on  the  spot  and  had  something 
definite  to  work  upon.  With  the  sense  of 
possession  and  the  freedom  from  interfer 
ence  by  others  it  was  fun  to  work  on  their 
place — or  play;  the  two  things  should  be 
one  and  the  same;  they  should  be  married, 
though  often  they  are  divorced — it  was  as 
much  fun  as  it  had  been  to  plan  the  place 
itself  before  these  two  persons  were  mar 
ried,  and  much  more  solid  satisfaction. 

Some  of  the  doors  had  to  be  taken  down 
and  planed  off  at  the  top  or  the  bottom  and 
put  up  again.  One  of  the  chimneys  didn't 
draw  well,  and  they  finally  had  to  send  for 
an  expert  from  New  York  to  diagnose  the 
case,  which  was  expensive,  but  effective. 
Despite  their  reiterated  requests  Wilson 
286 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Peters  had  forgotten  to  put  shelves  in  the 
bath-rooms.  "I  knew  he  would  forget/' 
said  Molly;  "he's  a  bachelor,  and  babies 
have  never  entered  his  existence.  At  least, 
not  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  or  so." 

"  But  even  a  bachelor  has  to  shave," 
said  Fred,  referring  to  his  own  bath-room. 
"He  hasn't  even  left  space  at  the  top  of 
the  wainscot  molding  for  a  razor;  he  has 
taken  pains  to  tack  on  one  of  his  elaborately 
lathed  bevels.  See,  even  a  tooth-brush  slides 
off.  But  I  suppose  he  thinks  this  is  pretty.'9 

"It  would  be  cruel,"  said  Molly,  "not 
to  let  him  ' express  himself  in  his  work.'  ; 

However,  Fred,  being  a  mechanical  genius, 
built  the  shelves  himself.  And  though  not 
very  beautiful  for  a  work  of  genius,  espe 
cially  as  the  artist's  paint  failed  to  match 
the  other  painter's  color,  the  shelves  were 
at  any  rate  commodious  enough  to  accom 
modate  everything  needed  in  a  well-regu 
lated  family,  from  a  medicine  dropper  to  a 
large-sized  spring-water  bottle.  So  Molly 
could  express  herself  in  her  work  of  modify 
ing  the  milk  for  the  little  Carrolls. 
287 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

"It's  a  nuisance,  this  reputation  for  being 
a  handy  man  about  the  place/'  Fred  told 
Molly's  callers.  "Whenever  the  plumbing 
goes  to  smash — 'Why  call  in  a  plumber? 
Fred,  dear,  just  adores  doing  things!"  He 
had  recently  spent  two  hundred  dollars  worth 
of  time  on  a  two-dollar  pipe,  and  was  now 
on  strike. 

They  said  nothing  about  the  shelves  to 
Peters,  but  they  did  take  pains  to  tell  him 
that  none  of  the  windows  stuck — not  one! 
As  there  were  ever  so  many  windows  in  the 
house — the  south  facade  being  nearly  all 
glass — this  seemed  a  great  achievement  and 
cheered  them  on  to  the  extra  expense  in 
volved  in  weather-strips  and  storm-windows 
and  such  things,  of  which  there  seemed  to 
be  no  end. 

In  the  matter  of  the  windows  the  Carrolls 
experienced  another  triumph.  During  the 
finishing  of  the  house  Molly  one  day  dis 
covered  that  in  estimating  these  numerous 
extra  expenses  of  turning  a  house  into  a 
home  they  had  forgotten  all  about  window 
shades.  So  they  wrote  down  another  two 
288 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

hundred  dollars,  fearing  all  the  time  that  it 
would  be  double  that,  as  it  seemed  a  safe 
rule  that  everything  was  always  double. 
But  when  the  bill  came  in  it  was  less  than 
half  of  their  estimate.  Such  things  will 
happen  sometimes,  even  in  the  worst  regu 
lated  families. 

This  unprecedented  experience  encouraged 
them  to  invest  in  furniture  and  hangings, 
for  the  old  curtains  which  Molly  had  hoped 
would  do,  did  not  fit,  and  the  furniture 
(partly  inherited  from  various  members  of 
two  families  and  partly  collected  from  vari 
ous  parts  of  two  continents)  wljich  had 
crowded  up  their  rooms  uncomfortably  in 
the  old  benighted  days  of  renting  now 
seemed  so  sparse  as  to  be  quite  lonely  in 
the  many  and  larger  rooms  of  their  own 
wonderful  home.  They  revelled  in  search 
ing  for  the  needed  pieces.  Furniture  hunt 
ing  had  always  been  one  of  their  vices,  and 
now  there  was  an  added  zest  because  they 
actually  needed  it,  which  justified  their  in 
dulgence. 

They  had  passed  the  stage  of  buying  old 
289 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

things  merely  because  they  were  old.  What 
they  selected  now  was  useful  and  durable 
as  well  as  interesting  and  of  good  lines. 
They  made  it  a  principle  to  have  no  chairs 
which  were  not  comfortable  chairs,  except 
for  a  tall,  stiff  pair  in  the  hall  which  no 
one  by  any  chance  ever  sat  in.  The  hall, 
of  course,  was  treated  formally,  enough  so 
as  to  serve  as  an  intermediary  between  out- 
of-doors  and  the  warmth  and  intimacy  of 
the  living  room,  but  not  enough  so  as  to 
make  the  reception  cold  and  pretentious. 
Cottages  can  have  dignity  if  they  do  not  try 
to  look*  like  something  they  are  not.  The 
prevailing  note  in  the  Carroll  house  was 
simplicity  and  comfort.  "Livable  and  lov 
able,"  as  Molly  said — which  seemed  to  be 
a  good  note  for  a  home  built  to  live  in  com 
fortably  rather  than  to  entertain  in  lavishly. 
For  the  Carrolls  might  have  to  live  in  it 
most  of  the  summer  and  winter,  whereas 
those  they  entertained  in  it  would  not  be 
of  a  sort  to  worship  or  want  lavishness.  It 
took  a  good  deal  of  time  getting  what  they 
required  in  the  way  of  furniture,  and  also  a 

2QO 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

good  deal  of  money,  but  they  were  used  to 
spending  money  by  this  tinte.  It  is  easy  to 
acquire  the  habit.  Besides,  as  Fred  gravely 
pointed  out  to  Molly,  it  never  paid  to  buy 
cheap  furniture. 

They  also  had  a  good  deal  of  satisfac 
tion  in  "laying  out  the  home  grounds."  On 
that  same  economical  principle  (which  the 
Carrolls  practised  so  conscientiously)  of  its 
"paying  in  the  long  run"  to  get  the  best, 
they  had  accepted  the  services  of  a  landscape 
architect  as  soon  as  the  outside  of  the  house 
was  finished  and  the  hauling  was  over  with. 
For  would  it  not  be  cheaper  in  the  long  run, 
they  asked  themselves,  to  begin  aright  rather 
than  tear  everything  up  after  it  was  well 
started  wrong  ?  Assuredly.  Practical  fore 
sight. 

At  the  outset  they  achieved  a  triumph 
over  Wilson  Peters;  in  this  way:  it  may  be 
remembered  that  the  cardinal  principle  of 
their  dream  house,  the  one  thing  above  all 
others  which  they  declined  to  surrender, 
was  the  long,  low,  near-to-the-sod  effect. 
It  seemed  very  important  to  them  that  their 
291 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

house  should  be  only  a  step  or  two  above 
the  ground.  Ehit  Peters,  as  if  to  spite  his 
clients,  jacked  the  house  up,  so  to  speak,  in 
the  final  plan,  without  consulting  them. 

Molly  sighed,  but  Fred  smiled  knowing 
ly.  "Wait  and  see,"  he  said.  When  it 
came  time  for  the  grading  he  quietly  in 
structed  the  landscape  architect  to  grade 
all  the  way  up  to  the  weather-board;  thus 
not  only  was  the  ugly  rough  foundation 
stone  completely  hidden,  but  the  low  effect 
was  greatly  enhanced  and  there  was  only 
one  step  up  into  the  house  instead  of  two 
or  three,  as  called  for  by  the  architect's 
plans. 

By  the  time  Peters  made  another  visit  to 
see  how  the  Carroll  job  was  coming  on — his 
visits  were  not  frequent  at  this  period— 
the  grading  was  finished,  and  it  was  too 
late  to  change.  Naturally  he  was  furious. 
"  Don't  you  know  a  grade  line  when  you 
see  it  on  a  blue  print?"  he  demanded. 

"Mr.  Carroll's  orders,"  was  the  reply. 

"Oh,  all  right!     If  Mr.  Carroll  wants  a 
damp  cellar,  that's  his  own  affair/' 
292 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

But  the  cellar  remained  dusty.  Ordi 
narily  Peters'  surmise  would  have  been  cor 
rect,  and  no  doubt  it  was  quite  unprofes 
sional  in  the  Carrolls  to  take  this  liberty,  but 
Fred  had  luck  and  science  with  him,  as  it 
happened.  For,  during  the  process  of  ex 
cavation,  he  had  observed  that  the  cleavage 
ran  down  toward  the  north,  while  the  sur 
face  of  the  soil  sloped  to  the  south.  Nat 
ural  drainage  kept  the  cellar  dry.  It  was 
after  this  that  Fred,  who  had  merely  felt 
pretty  sure  of  it  before,  became  convinced 
that  he  might  have  made  a  great  architect. 

II 

Well,  when  at  last  they  had  discovered 
most  of  the  secrets  of  a  reticent  furnace, 
and  had  learned  by  experience,  bitter  and 
cold,  to  swathe  in  mineral  wool  certain 
aloof  water  pipes  which  "that  man  Peters" 
had  placed  unprotected  within  one  of  the 
coldest  outside  walls  of  the  house — as  a 
souvenir,  they  supposed,  of  his  architectural 
sense  of  humor;  when  the  pictures  and 
imported  junk  were  all  hung — or  as  many 
293 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

and  as  much  as  they  meant  to  hang  at  one 
time,  for  "we  hate  crowded  walls,"  they 
said;  when  the  mellow,  well-worn  rugs 
were  all  down  and  the  curtains,  new,  but 
unobtrusively  so,  were  all  up;  when  the 
telephone  was  put  in  and  the  smell  of  paint 
was  put  out,  when  the  postman  and  the 
butcher's  boy  had  learned  to  call  as  regu 
larly  and  nonchalantly  at  the  Carroll  house 
as  if  it  had  been  there  always,  Fred  and 
Molly  put  their  heads  together  one  early 
spring  day  and  decided  that,  since  they  had 
spent  about  double  the  amount  which  they 
had  solemnly  agreed  a  year  or  two  previ 
ously  to  invest  in  a  home,  they  would  now 
have  a  grand  house-warming. 

For  it  would  be  a  useless  extravagance  to 
build  such  a  nice  house  if  they  couldn't  do 
nice  things  for  people  with  it.  They  both 
disapproved  of  extravagance.  So  they  en 
gaged  a  caterer  and  musicians  from  town 
and  issued  invitations,  not  only  to  the  whole 
colony,  but  to  all  the  friends  they  had  in 
other  parts  of  the  wrorld.  Since  the  Carrolls 
had  joined  the  colony  every  one  had  been 
294 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

most  kind  to  them,  and  this  would  be  a 
nice  way  "to  show  them  our  appreciation/' 
said  Fred. 

"And  also/'  added  Molly,  "to  show  them 
our  house." 

It  proved  to  be  a  great  success.  Only, 
the  guests  at  first  failed  to  realize  what 
was  expected  of  them.  Instead  of  stopping 
abruptly  at  the  charming  entrance  to  gaze 
entranced  at  the  unfolding  vista  of  softly 
toned  rooms,  they  scurried  through  to  take 
off  their  wraps  in  that  self-centered  and 
rather  solemn  manner  so  many  people  adopt 
upon  arriving  at  an  "at-home,"  as  if  it  were 
a  funeral  rather  than  a  festivity.  And  upon 
saluting  their  hostess,  who  looked  quite  as 
charming,  but  not  half  so  excited  as  she 
really  was,  instead  of  telling  her  how  much 
they  admired  her  beautiful  home,  they  chose 
to  tell  her  about  the  weather.  In  fact,  they 
acted  very  much  as  though  it  were  an  ordi 
nary  party  at  an  ordinary  house!  They 
obliviously  turned  their  backs  to,  or  even 
leaned  against,  architectural  details  which 
had  cost  nights  of  careful  study,  days  of 
295 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

nervous  wrangling,  merely  to  ask  one  an 
other  if  they  were  going  to  the  dance  at  the 
riding  club  next  Friday,  or  how  late  they 
expected  to  remain  in  the  country  this  year. 

It  seems  unaccountable  that  they  did  not 
all  talk  about  the  house  at  once,  but  the 
Carrolls  graciously  overlooked  the  omis 
sion,  being  quite  busy,  Molly  telling  those 
who  came  how  good  it  was  of  them  to  do  so, 
and  Fred  conscientiously  breaking  up  con 
genial  tete-a-tetes  just  as  they  were  becom 
ing  interesting  in  order  to  present  men  to 
lonely  women. 

Later  in  the  evening,  however,  after  the 
guests  had  had  something  to  eat  and  drink 
and  had  stopped  thinking  about  themselves 
or  their  clothes,  they  manifested  a  marked 
improvement.  Many  of  them  told  Molly 
that  she  was  "to  be  congratulated  upon 
having  such  a  pretty  house."  Others  re 
marked  that  it  was  "so  much  larger  than  it 
looked  from  the  outside."  Still  others  pro 
nounced  it  cosey,  quite  original,  or  so  artistic. 

In  fact,  nearly  every  one  who  liked  it 
finally  said  so,  and  as  none  of  those  who 
296 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

disliked  it  said  anything  about  that  to 
Molly,  she  decided  that  they  all  liked  it, 
and  therefore  she  liked  them  and  beamed 
and  was  as  much  pleased  as  though  her 
children  or  even  her  husband  were  being 
praised — though,  to  be  sure,  they  could 
not  fully  appreciate  the  house  (any  more 
than  they  could  Fred  or  the  children),  or  else 
they  would  not  call  it  "cosey,"  a  word  she 
hated,  or  "artistic,"  which  Fred  hated  even 
more. 

Fred  in  the  meanwhile  was  not  faring 
quite  so  well.  He  was  quite  willing  to  tell 
all  about  it,  but  they  wouldn't  give  him  a 
chance.  There  was  a  certain  girl  there 
with  a  twinkle  in  her  rather  unusual  eyes 
who  admired  Fred's  work.  She  told  him 
that  his  house  "was  just  the  kind  one 
would  expect  an  artist  to  build."  That 
was  all  right  so  far.  But,  unfortunately, 
she  asked  him,  "What  style  is  it  ?"  and  this 
brought  on  a  whole  avalanche  of  authorita 
tive  explanation — that  it  was  no  style  at  all, 
that  most  people  seem  to  think  a  house  must 
be  an  academic,  unimaginative  copy  of  some- 
297 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

thing  that  has  gone  before.  True,  you 
must  know  what  has  gone  before,  but,  etc. 
She  wasn't  in  the  least  interested.  She 
wanted  to  flirt  with  him.  He  didn't  dis 
cover  it  until  after  she  left  with  another 
man  who  would.  .  .  .  Fred  was  becoming 
so  old  and  out  of  practice  that  he  didn't 
always  recognize  the  signals  when  he  saw 
them.  A  sad  state  for  the  father  of  a  grow 
ing  family. 

Then  there  was  also  a  nice,  well-meaning 
old  gentleman  who  innocently  asked  Fred 
about  the  coloring  of  the  wall,  not  that  he 
cared  a  hang,  but  because  he  didn't  know 
what  else  to  say,  artists  and  such  being 
rather  perplexing  freaks  to  him.  But  Fred 
warmed  to  him  at  once  and  was  off  like  a 
colt  at  the  barrier:  The  permanent  treat 
ment  of  walls  could  not  be  determined  in 
advance;  professional  decorators  say  so, 
but  they  are  all  liars;  the  light  is  never  quite 
as  you  expect  it  to  be,  or  the  furniture  mod 
ifies  the  effect  subtly  but  tremendously. 
Therefore,  it  is  necessary  to  get  acquainted 
with  a  room  first,  just  as  you  must  get  ac- 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

quainted  with  people  before  you  can  do 
their  portraits.  Problem:  what  to  do  in  the 
meanwhile.  White  is  sepulchral;  tint  will 
chip  off.  In  this  case  the  coloring  had  been 
mixed  with  the  rough  plaster — mixed  before 
putting  on,  you  understand.  A  great  risk, 
he  admitted,  a  pure  gamble,  but  in  these 
rooms  luck  had  been  with  him;  they  were 
quite  successful.  Upstairs,  however,  he 
had  missed  it  badly,  etc.,  etc.,  until  Fred 
saw  the  unlistening  eyes  following  a  tray 
of  punch  glasses  out  of  the  room;  then 
he  stopped  and  said,  "Oh,  won't  you  have 
some  supper  ?  Do  have  some  supper.  You 
must!" 

Even  Wilson  Peters  declined  to  warm 
to  the  subject,  and  as  he  was  the  architect 
of  the  house,  it  seemed  about  as  base  as  a 
father's  refusing  to  acknowledge  his  own 
child.  Fred,  with  a  view  to  healing  the 
breach  between  them,  had  made  a  special 
point  of  inviting  Wilson  and  had  lionized 
him  all  evening  whenever  any  one  asked, 
"Who  was  your  architect  ?"  Fred  thought 
it  rather  generous  to  give  Peters  so  much 
299 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 
\ 

honor,  when,  as  could  easily  be  proved,  "the 
whole  charm  of  the  house  was  in  spite  of, 
not  because  of,  Wilson  Peters."  It  could 
be  proved  by  Molly.  But  Peters,  if  the 
truth  must  be  told,  did  not  care  to  be  lion 
ized  over  building  a  simple  little  house  in 
the  country.  For  wasn't  he  engaged  upon 
the  plans  for  an  insane  asylum  which  was 
to  cost  half  a  million  and  would  have  ap 
propriate  ornamentation  all  over  it  ? 

Alas!  the  breach  has  never  been  com 
pletely  healed.  Each  tries  to  make  the 
other  think  he  likes  him  as  in  the  old  days, 
but  neither  deceives  the  other.  Each  laughs 
with  unnecessary  loudness  at  the  other's 
jokes,  but  both  are  palpably  nervous  at  the 
approach  of  the  awful  pauses  which  come 
more  and  more  frequently  in  their  chance 
meetings,  which  are  becoming  less  and  less 
numerous.  Instead  of  calling  him  "Pete," 
Fred  now  addresses  his  former  friend  and 
architect  as  "Wilson,"  after  the  manner 
of  the  latter's  mother,  which  gives  the  archi 
tect  a  mingled  sense  of  incongruity  and  per 
plexity — for  what's  he  to  call  Fred  Carroll, 
300 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

who  has  no  other  name  ?  He  might  try 
"Frederic." 

During  the  entire  evening,  otherwise  de 
lightful,  Fred  found  only  one  man  who 
showed  a  sincere  yearning  to  talk  about  the 
house,  and  he  was  a  guest  whose  name 
Fred  did  not  know.  He  had  arrived  late 
and  seemed  to  prefer  to  remain  upstairs  in 
the  "gentlemen's  dressing-room"  (otherwise 
the  children's  day-nursery).  By  way  of 
picking  up  an  acquaintance,  he  said  to 
Fred,  "What  a  hell  of  a  house!" 

This  sounded  sincere  enough,  but  hardly 
explicit.  Fred  led  him  on  to  elucidate. 

"Why,  the  front  door's  in  the  back! 
Never  saw  such  a  house." 

"That's  so,"  Fred  assented,  "the  chief 
entrances,  the  staircases,  the  kitchen  wing, 
the  pantries,  the  studio — all  the  works  of 
the  house — seem  to  be  on  the  cold  north 
side,  facing  the  road."  But  he  could  not 
resist  adding,  "I  suppose  the  idea  was  to 
throw  all  the  living  rooms  together  in  one 
sweep  on  the  south  side,  where  they  would 
have  the  view  and  the  terrace  and  the  sun- 
301 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

shine,  and  yet  be  secluded."  Fred  started 
to  leave. 

"Secluded  ? "  sneered  the  other.  "  I  should 
think  so!  I  waded  through  the  mud  up  to 
my  ankles  clear  around  to  the  south  side — 
and  then  couldn't  get  in!  Had  to  plough 
my  way  back  again." 

Fred  abruptly  turned  back.  "Did  you 
step  on  that  freshly  seeded  ground!"  he 
demanded. 

The  man  looked  up  with  sudden  interest 
and  held  out  his  hand.  "Shake!"  he  said 
humorously.  "So  you  made  the  same 
mistake?" 

"No,  oh  no,"  said  Fred  in  a  changed 
tone,  "but — I  was  thinking  it  must  have 
been  bad  for  your  pumps." 

"Look!"  The  stranger  displayed  them 
dramatically.  "That's  why  I  can't  go 
down-stairs.  And  I  ordered  my  carriage 
not  to  come  till  late.  Oh,  Lord!" 

"Have  a  cigar,"  said  his  host,  sitting 
down.  This  was  worth  while,  even  though 
Molly  might  need  him  below. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  down,  anyway,"  the 
302 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

man  went  on,  biting  the  cigar  viciously, 
though  really  quite  happy  at  last  to  have 
some  one  so  sympathetic  to  talk  to;  none 
of  the  others  had  waited  to  listen.  "The 
ceilings  are  so  low  that  it  must  be  stifling 
down  there/' 

"Yes,  it's  fierce,"  said  Fred.  "The  only 
way  you  can  get  any  air  is  by  going  out  on 
the  terrace.  They've  partly  enclosed  it  with 
cheap  brown  khaki  with  crimson  designs 
painted  on  it,  and  just  a  few  pyramidal 
shrubs  in  green  tubs  at  formal  intervals. 
That's  why  you  couldn't  break  in  by  way 
of  the  south  front.  You  ought  to  see  those 
designs — home-made  affairs;  anybody  can 
tell  that.  They  might  just  as  well  have  let 
the  florists  fix  up  something  tasty  or  even 
classy  for  them.  But  the  music's  out  there, 
and  a  lot  of  flirtation  around  a  punch-bowl 
big  enough  to  swim  in!  Too  bad  you  didn't 
wade  all  the  way  round." 

At  this  the  stranger  looked  so  disap 
pointed  that  Fred  felt  quite  inhospitable. 

"All  the  same,"  returned  the  disgruntled 
guest,  "it's  absurd  to  have  such  low  ceilings. 
Look  at  them." 

303 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Fred  looked  at  them.  "They  are  pretty 
low,"  he  admitted,  recalling  how  he  had 
fought  with  Peters  to  keep  them  low.  "I 
suppose  they  expect  to  import  their  fresh 
air  from  out-of-doors.  Foolish  idea." 

"But  what  can  you  expect  of  a  crazy  art 
ist!"  remarked  the  other  with  an  indulgent 
smile.  "The  whole  house  is  in  keeping." 

"  So  it  is,"  answered  Fred—  "  so  it  is.  The 
whole  house  is  in  keeping.  But  then  these 
crazy  artists  will  do  anything  to  be  original." 

"And  to  think  of  some  of  the  houses  right 
here  in  this  colony  he  might  easily  have 
copied,  and  it  wouldn't  have  cost  him  a 
cent  more  nor  half  the  trouble!" 

"Yes,  think  of  some  of  them!"  Fred 
agreed  fervently.  They  were  both  enjoy 
ing  themselves  and  forgetting  their  cares, 
which  is  the  object  of  social  intercourse. 

"Turning  the  plainest  side  of  the  house, 
what  little  you  can  see  of  it,  toward  the 
street!"  the  interesting  guest  went  on, 
warming  to  his  congenial  acquaintance. 
"The  terraces,  the  porches,  the  flower  gar 
dens — practically  everything  nice  about  the 
place — are  hidden.  Bah!" 
304 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Bah!"  agreed  Fred. 

"Now,  if  /  were  building  on  this  site," 
said  the  other— "  want  to  know  what  I'd 
do?" 

Fred  wanted  to  know  very  much. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  I'd  have  my  en 
trance  gate  down  at  the  far  corner,  with  a 
circular  drive  leading  up  to  my  front  door, 
which  would  be  a  real  front  door,  in  the 
real  front  of  my  house." 

"With  a  circular  pile  of  rocks  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  circle?"  asked  Fred  enthusias 
tically. 

"Exactly." 

"And  a  crescent-shaped  geranium-bed  on 
each  side?" 

"Why,  yes!" 

"Yes,"  said  Fred,  arising  to  go,  but  wish 
ing  he  could  stay,  "I'm  sure  you  would." 

The  guest  proceeded,  "And  as  for  the 
house — "  But  his  young  friend  had  gone. 
However,  a  servant  came  a  few  minutes 
later  bearing  Scotch  and  carbonic  and  a 
lot  of  hot  supper,  which  he  found  even  more 
congenial. 

305 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 


III 

Toward  the  end  of  the  evening,  when 
nearly  every  one  was  having  a  good  time, 
with  tongues  free,  eyes  bright,  laughter  real, 
just  as  the  first  symptoms  were  felt  of  the 
breaking  up,  old  Colonel  Davidge  arose, 
and,  tapping  on  the  table  for  silence,  lifted 
his  glass  and  proposed  a  toast,  with  the 
grace  of  an  old-fashioned  Southerner  of  the 
expansive  school,  and  with  the  authority  of 
a  veteran  who  had  served  brilliantly  through 
two  wars  and  a  long  diplomatic  career — a 
toast,  with  many  interesting  and  ornate 
phrases,  to  the  two  charming  and  talented 
additions  to  the  colony  and  to  the  new  and 
beautiful  home  which  graced  the  landscape. 

Fred  had  his  smiling  doubts  about  some 
of  his  guests  being  quite  so  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  his  works  of  genius  as  the 
dear  old  colonel  intimated,  but  Molly  did 
not  share  these  doubts,  and,  at  any  rate, 
both  of  them  felt  very  proud  and  happy 
— too  proud,  as  Tred  said,  shaking  his 
head  when  they  called  upon  him  to  respond, 
306 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

to  spoil  such  a  beautiful  climax  with  an 
anticlimax,  too  happy  to  make  the  rest  of 
them  unhappy,  and  especially  to  make  a 
puffed-up  hostess  ashamed  of  her  husband. 
As  the  host  concluded,  he  spied,  upon  the 
landing  of  the  stairs,  the  lonely  guest — 
mouth  and  eyes  wide  open. 

However,  the  house  was  now  "warmed." 
But  homes  do  not  find  themselves  by  house- 
warmings,  any  more  than  Mr.  Kipling's  ship 
found  itself  by  the  ceremony  of  launching. 
Ships  find  themselves  by  sailing  voyages, 
and  homes  by  being  inhabited  for  years, 
until  they  fit  like  an  old  shoe  and  become 
a  part  of  the  owner's  life  like  a  memory  of 
childhood. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic  Carroll  were  at 
tea  on  the  terrace.  The  children  were  at 
play  in  the  sand-pile,  their  legs  as  brown  as 
the  sand.  Guests  were  expected  later  for 
dinner.  Sparrows  were  twittering  in  the  low 
eaves.  "Do  you  remember,"  said  Molly, 
surveying  with  purring  complacency  the  cool 
velvet  lawn,  the  well-trimmed  hedge,  the 
307 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

vines  clambering  bravely  up  the  low  walls 
of  the  house — "I  wonder  if  you  remember 
what  a  dreadful  time  we  had  building  this 
house?" 

Fred  nodded  and  smiled  absently,  ab 
sorbed  now  in  other  plans,  throwing  out 
work  like  a  well-geared  threshing  machine. 
"Took  it  too  seriously,"  he  said.  "We  al 
ways  take  things  we  care  about  too  seri 
ously — and  things  we  don't  care  about  not 
seriously  enough." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  we  did,"  said  Molly 
contentedly;  "that's  one  reason  why  we 
love  it  so." 


308 


VII 
THE  FAMILY  PARTY 

SCENES :  The  same  set  and  properties  as  in  the  last,  but 
with  an  entirely  different  background.  Victorian  atmos 
phere.  Any  American  household  of  ll  culture  and  refine 
ment  "  would  do  as  well. 

(OTHER  MEMBERS  OF  ONE  OF  OUR  BEST  FAMILIES  AP 
PEAR,  EXPLAINING  (BY  THEIR  SILENCE)  MUCH  THAT  HAS 
GONE  BEFORE.  SUDDENLY  A  FAMILY  SKELETON  IS  DIS 
CLOSED,  THE  CLAN  SPIRIT  IS  AROUSED,  AND  THE  HOUSE 
OF  CARROLL  NOW  SEEMS  SOUND  AND  SECURE.) 

THE  distinguished  Carroll  family's  cher 
ished  custom  of  foregathering  once  a  year 
about  an  unnecessarily  long  dinner  and 
pretending  to  enjoy  being  together  had 
usually  been  observed  on  Thanksgiving 
Day,  with  the  venerable  head  of  the  house 
beaming  upon  all  alike — including  the  un 
easy  "in-laws" — and  reminding  them  every 
now  and  then  how  good  and  pleasant  it  was 
for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity. 

When  this  annual  comedy,  appropriately 
produced  with  a  setting  of  mid- Victorian 
3°9 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

furniture  and  formality  in  a  gloomy  old 
house  up  the  Hudson,  was  at  last  brought 
to  a  climax  of  kisses  and  genuinely  happy 
good-bys,  and  all  the  very  different  coup 
les  had  fled  away  to  the  centres  of  their 
distinct  universes,  they  always  vowed,  as 
they  dosed  their  offspring  for  indigestion, 
that  they  would  never  go  through  the  ordeal 
again. 

But,  of  course,  the  next  year  found  them 
there  once  more,  each  doing  his  best  to 
look  delighted.  None  of  them  knew  just 
why  it  was  kept  up.  They  thought  it  was 
only  to  gratify  their  beloved  father,  to 
whom  family  parties  had  become  the  chief 
of  his  few  remaining  joys.  But  there  was 
also  another  impulse,  less  conscious,  more 
potent — the  clan  instinct. 


There  came  an  epoch-making  year  in 
the  history  of  the  ancient  Carroll  family. 
The  old  home  nucleus  was  abroad — and 
expected  to  remain  abroad  until  late  in 
December!  "It  grieves  us,"  wrote  Aunt 
310 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Bella  from  Italy,  "to  think  of  foregoing  the 
usual  happy  time  together."  So  for  once 
the  dark-blue  shades  remained  drawn  upon 
the  tall,  narrow  windows  of  the  many  stuffy 
rooms  of  the  sombre  old  house  all  through 
Thanksgiving  Day,  and  for  once  sincere 
thanks  ascended  from  the  various  parts  of 
our  country  inhabited  by  Carrolls.  But  the 
rejoicing  was  short-lived. 

Just  when  the  rest  of  the  brethren  were 
sinking  luxuriously  into  that  serenity  which 
follows  escape  from  an  anticipated  ordeal, 
two  inconsiderate  young  members  of  the 
family,  known  as  "the  Freds,"  without  a 
word  of  warning,  invited  the  whole  tribe  to 
their  small  but  charming  country  place,  re 
cently  finished  with  great  rejoicing  and  ex 
pense,  in  order  to  celebrate  Christmas,  the 
opening  of  the  "our  new  house,"  and  the 
safe  return  of  father  and  Aunt  Bella,  who 
were  due  to  land  beamingly  in  America  on 
the  twentieth. 

Now,  to  be  sure,  the  Fred  Carrolls  en 
joyed  giving  family  parties  no  more  than 
the  rest  of  the  middle  generation  enjoyed 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

attending  them.  But  Fred  thought  that 
the  others  would  like  to  come,  and  the 
others  thought  that  feelings  would  be  hurt 
if  they  declined.  So  when  Fred's  wife 
wrote  characteristically  gracious  notes  to 
all  the  other  wives,  telling  them  what  a  joy 
it  would  be  and  how  she  was  looking  for 
ward  to  it,  the  other  wives  straightway  ac 
cepted,  telling  her  what  a  dear  she  was, 
and  how  they  were  looking  forward  to  it. 
.  .  .  Just  when  Archie,  the  eldest  and 
wealthiest,  had  planned  to  start  South;  and 
Roger,  the  professor  and  the  poorest,  had 
counted  upon  attending  the  annual  meet 
ing  of  the  American  Economic  Association! 
Fred,  though  given  to  doing  unaccount 
able  things,  was  the  last  they  would  have 
suspected  of  this,  with  the  possible  excep 
tion  of  Molly,  his  wife,  for  early  in  life 
he  had  departed  more  widely  than  any  of 
them  from  the  traditions  of  the  family. 
And  as  for  Fred's  wife,  she,  to  be  sure,  had 
never  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  such  tradi 
tions  at  all,  being  "from"  the  Pacific  coast, 
and  of  Southern  extraction  at  that!  So, 
312 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

although  Aunt  Bella,  in  the  kindness  of 
her  heart,  was  wont  to  remark,  for  Molly's 
encouragement,  "But  we  never  think  of 
you,  my  dear,  as  a  Californian,"  it  was  as 
obviously  recognized,  as  it  was  politely  ig 
nored,  that  this  past  of  hers — for  which  they 
would  never  dream  of  holding  her  respon 
sible;  she  was  so  young  at  the  time — this 
mere  accident  of  birth,  for  that,  they  ad 
mitted,  was  all  it  amounted  to,  had,  never 
theless  held  Fred's  wife  in  an  environment 
(during  the  "formative  period")  just  a  little 
too  remote  to  be  reached  and  redeemed  by 
even  such  potent  cultural  influences  as  the 
Boston  Carrolls.  But  Aunt  Bella  still  hoped 
and  prayed,  with  a  faith  that  might  have 
moved  Plymouth  Rock  to  San  Francisco 
Bay — had  the  good  lady  been  willing — that 
all  things  would  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God. 

The  family's  chief  claim  to  distinction  in 
previous  generations  had  been  in  the  pur 
suit  of  piety  and  scholarship — with  just 
enough  "drifting  into  money-making,"  as 
their  unworldly  but  not  unhumorous  father 
313 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

called  it,  or  else  into  advantageous  matri 
mony,  to  make  their  lives  comfortable  as 
well  as  useful.  But  Fred  had  become  a 
painter!  So,  while  not  a  Philistine,  like  all 
those  who  made  money,  he  was  neces 
sarily  considered  a  Bohemian,  like  all  ar 
tists,  which  perhaps  was  even  worse.  There 
fore  he  felt  himself  more  out  of  the  family 
picture  and  less  understood  than  any  of  the 
brethren — each  of  whom,  it  may  be  added, 
cherished  a  similar  illusion  about  him 
self. 

Perhaps  it  was  that  the  Bohemian  wanted 
to  get  back  into  the  family  picture.  Until 
recent  years  he  had  led  a  nomadic  exist 
ence  in  various  parts  of  the  world;  perhaps 
he  was  hearkening,  unconsciously,  to  the 
call  of  the  clan.  Having  a  young  family 
of  his  own  now,  perhaps  he  thought  a 
family  party  would  do  them  good,  and  at 
the  same  time  might  serve  to  rid  the 
house  of  the  lingering  taint  of  newness 
and  help  to  establish  the  atmosphere  of 
home. 

But  that  was  not  what  made  Molly  take 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

to  the  project.  She  saw  a  chance  she  had 
wanted  ever  since  she  had  married  into  the 
Carroll  family. 

"I'll  agree  to  have  them  here  upon  one 
condition/'  she  said,  her  eyes  twinkling, 
"and  that  is  that  you  will  join  me  in  a 
scheme  to  reform  your  family!  With  a 
merry,  old-fashioned  Christmas  party,  such 
as  we  used  to  have  in  our  family — with  a 
tree  and  a  yule-log  and  eggnog " 

"Look  out,  Molly!  Aunt  Bella/5  Their 
generous  old  aunt  devoted  much  time  and 
money  to  the  cause  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U., 
having  at  her  command  considerable  of 
each,  thanks  to  that  Carroll  ancestor  who 
had  devoted  his  time  and  money  to  the  man 
ufacture  of  Medford  rum. 

"Oh,  that's  so."  Molly  stopped  a  mo 
ment.  "Very  well,  we'll  omit  the  eggnog. 
But,  at  any  rate,  they  will  be  far  removed 
from  that  dreadful  old  house  with  its  at 
mosphere  of  artificiality.  That  has  been 
the  chief  trouble  heretofore.  No  one  can 
be  spontaneous  there.  The  ghastly  color 
scheme  always  gets  on  your  nerves;  and 
3*5 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  horrible  memories  of  our  engagement 
days  always  get  on  mine.  I  don't  be 
lieve  any  of  us  'in-laws'  can  ever  enter  that 
gloomy  place  without  snapping  back  into 
the  old  defiant  attitude  of  the  days  when 
Aunt  Bella  tried  to  poison  the  minds  of 
the  family  against  each  of  us  in  turn.  But 
this  fresh,  new  house  of  ours,  bright  and 
innocent  and  full  of  charm,  hasn't  any  at 
mosphere  or  memories  at  all!  It  will  be 
like  getting  them  on  neutral  ground.  Don't 
you  see,  dear?" 

"Well,"  said  Fred,  with  a  reflective  smile, 
"it  will  be  interesting  in  any  case  to  see 
how  they  take  it." 

So  these  two  set  about  to  reform  the 
Carroll  family — a  rather  ambitious  attempt 
on  their  part,  but  they  were  still  young. 
They  decked  out  their  unsuspecting  house 
with  holly,  put  wreaths  in  all  the  many 
windows,  hung  mistletoe  in  the  arches  and 
placed  a  Christmas-tree  in  the  studio,  which 
had  a  ceiling  high  enough  for  a  tall  one. 
They  soon  became  absorbed  in  their  plans, 
and  Fred  drew  caricatures  of  various  mem- 
316 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

bers  of  the  family  for  dinner-cards,  while 
Molly  wrote  appropriate  verses. 

"Nothing  like  a  few  jokes,"  said  Fred, 
"to  strike  the  note  and  start  them  going.  I 
have  seen  that  worked  to  good  effect  in 
other  families — when  I  was  a  bachelor." 

They  had  a  very  pleasant  anticipatory 
picture — all  the  little  nephews  and  nieces  in 
white  pique  against  the  dark  woodwork 
of  the  hall,  the  glow  of  the  yule-log  shining 
on  their  red  sashes,  merry  laughter,  wassail, 
good  cheer.  Even  Fred  became  quite  en 
thusiastic.  Perhaps  Molly  hadn't  so  much 
imagination,  but  she  did  more  of  the  work, 
and  that  increased  her  enthusiasm. 

So  when  at  last  the  great  day  arrived  they 
really  believed  they  could  make  it  go— if, 
that  is,  Molly  could  only  remember  to 
avoid  references  to  Unitarianism,  vegeta 
rianism,  and  second  marriages.  For  her 
father-in-law  was  a  famous  Unitarian  (see 
records  of  the  Andover  Controversy),  Aunt 
Bella  was  a  conscientious  vegetarian,  and 
Archie  had  married  a  worldly  widow,  much 
to  the  chagrin  of  the  family,  who  did  not 
317 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

approve  of  second  marriages.  As  a  memo 
randum,  Molly  took  the  initials  of  these 
taboos  and  repeated  them  frequently  upon 
her  fingers,  "U.V.M.— U.V.M."  Then 
feeling  secure  on  these  points  she  became 
ambitious  and  made  Fred  rehearse  her 
upon  all  the  minor  forbidden  topics,  though, 
since  it  was  a  large  family  and  Molly  had 
but  ten  fingers,  the  chances  were  against 
her.  Nevertheless,  hope  rose  high  in  the  new 
Carroll  house.  Fred  and  Molly  were  not 
unconscious  of  being  considered  good  hosts. 
But  they  had  reckoned  without  their 
guests.  The  family  did  not  know  it  was 
to  be  reformed.  Nor  did  it  want  to  be  re 
formed.  The  Family  never  does — no  more 
than  any  of  our  other  well-meaning,  unim 
aginative  institutions.  Why  not  leave  good 
enough  alone  ?  Whatever  was  is  right,  and 
ever  more  shall  be. 

II 

Around  a  charming  old  mahogany  din 
ner-table  (extended  to  its  full  length  for 
the  first  time  since  the  hostess  had  in- 

318 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

herited  it  from  her  grandmother)  festively 
decorated  in  green  and  red  by  one  of 
America's  most  promising  young  landscape 
painters,  with  humorous  dinner-cards,  es 
pecially  designed  for  each  place  by  the 
same  talented  hand,  enlivened  by  jocular 
verses  from  the  pen  of  his  clever  wife,  were 
seated  two  very  good-looking  generations 
of  the  distinguished  Carroll  family,  politely 
waiting  for  the  end  of  the  Christmas  party. 
Except  for  the  change  of  scene  (and 
cuisine),  the  comedy  was  proceeding  quite 
as  usual,  and  each  pretty  wreath  in  the 
windows  seemed  a  mocking  "O"  from  the 
mouth  of  a  comic  mask.  For,  you  see,  the 
dramatis  persona  were  the  same,  and  they 
had  all  learned  their  parts  too  well  upon 
the  old  stage  to  forget  them  on  the  new. 
In  short,  the  Carrolls  were  not  accustomed 
to  having  a  good  time  together,  and  it  seems 
they  did  not  intend  to  on  this  occasion. 
They  had  come  expecting  to  be  bored,  and 
so  they  had  proceeded  to  be  bored  at  once. 
They  had  hardly  taken  off  their  wraps  be 
fore  Fred  and  Molly  felt  the  familiar  symp- 
319 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

toms  of  the  annual  slump  which  always 
succeeded  the  first  gently  animated  expres 
sions  of  interest  in  one  another's  health  and 
children.  "I  hope  you  are  well."  "Yes, 
thank  you;  are  you  well?"  "Quite  well, 
thank  you — and  how's  the  baby  ?" 

That  was  not  the  way  the  hosts  had  in 
tended  to  start  off  at  all!  They  wondered 
what  was  the  matter,  as  they  began  show 
ing  the  guests  about  the  new  house — the 
first  of  the  "things  to  do,"  by  which  they 
hoped  to  keep  the  family  enlivened.  Per 
haps  the  unexpected  current  in  the  at 
mosphere  was  due  to  Fred's  lack  of  frater 
nal  spirit  in  securing  the  services  of  his 
friend  Wilson  Peters  instead  of  the  archi 
tect  who  had  married  into  the  family  and 
was  now  in  the  family  party  viewing  his 
rival's  work  in  polite  silence,  while  sneering 
inwardly  at  the  surbases. 

But  that  was  not  the  trouble.  It  was 
simply  that  the  unbidden  guest  had  also  ar 
rived — the  Family  Attitude.  It  hypnotized 
them.  Molly  lost  all  her  sparkle;  be 
came  quiet,  formal,  constrained.  As  for 
320 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Fred,  he  did  not  arise  to  the  occasion  at 
all;  he  slipped  down  into  the  accustomed 
niche  assigned  him  of  yore  by  the  family, 
and  was  now  merely  one  of  the  younger 
brothers  of  the  wonderful  Archie.  He 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  efface  himself  against 
the  woodwork.  Molly  threw  him  an  im 
ploring  glance.  He  avoided  her  eyes. 
This  man  before  her  was  no  longer  "  Fred 
eric  Carroll,  the  well-known  landscape 
painter,"  who  should  have  been  proud  of 
making  a  greater  mark  in  the  world  than 
any  of  them — without  family  influence, 
despite  family  opposition.  This  was  mere 
ly  a  shy,  self-conscious  boy,  blowing  his  nose 
unnecessarily,  ashamed  of  himself,  of  his 
house,  of  his  wife.  Molly  drew  near  and 
pinched  him.  He  glared  at  her  indignantly. 
They  hated  each  other. 

The  tree  in  the  studio  had  pleased  the 
children,  though  it  did  seem  to  Aunt  Bella 
like  a  flaunting  of  Molly's  sensuous  Episco- 
palianism  in  the  very  faces  of  the  Carrolls. 
But  when  Fred,  to  the  tune  of  sleigh-bells, 
entered,  made  up  like  Santa  Clans — and 
321 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

feeling  like  the  devil — one  of  Archie's  ner 
vous  children,  brought  up  "without  super 
stitions/'  was  nearly  frightened  into  hys 
terics  by  the  apoplectic-hued  false-face,  and 
Archie  cried,  "For  Heaven's  sake,  Fred, 
take  it  off!"  Never  would  Fred  and  Molly 
forget  the  terrible  look  of  sophistication 
which  crept  over  the  trusting  faces  of  their 
own  little  dears,  who  had  been  brought  up 
with  superstitions,  when  there  was  destroyed 
in  one  stroke  of  the  hand  their  illusion  of 
Santa  Claus  and  their  belief  in  their  fa 
ther.  .  .  . 

But  they  had  counted  upon  dinner  to 
redeem  the  cause.  Molly  prided  herself 
upon  her  dinners,  and  this  was  undoubtedly 
a  good  one.  They  all  politely  told  her  so, 
just  as  Aunt  Bella  informed  Fred,  examin 
ing  her  dinner-card  with  thoughtful  interest 
through  her  lorgnette,  that  his  carica 
tures  were  "capital"  and  Molly's  lines 
"very  clever  indeed."  Then  they  began  to 
eat,  for  that,  to  be  sure,  is  the  object  of 
dinners.  Fred,  feeling  inexpressible  sen 
sations,  turned  and  asked  Archie's  wife  for 
322 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

the  third  time  in  three  hours  whether  the 
new  governess  was  proving  a  success. 

"Twenty-four  hours  more  of  this!" 
thought  Molly  at  her  end  of  the  table. 
For  Christmas  came  on  Saturday,  and  they 
had  invited  the  family  for  the  week-end, 
so  that  they  "all  could  become  well  ac 
quainted  for  once."  On  her  right  sat  her 
father-in-law,  of  whom  she  was  sincerely 
fond,  beaming  as  usual  like  a  patriarch. 
He  patted  her  hand  and  whispered,  "It  was 
thoughtful  of  you,  my  dear,  to  prepare  this 
surprise  for  us  while  we  were  on  the  ocean. 
Nothing  could  have  gratified  us  more  than 
to  be  in  your  delightful  home  and  to  see 
all  the  family  so  happy  together."  Then 
he  turned  to  beam  upon  the  timid  creature 
upon  the  other  side,  Herbert's  fiancee,  who 
was  still  in  the  state  of  abject  terror  she 
tried  to  conceal  ever  since  her  arrival. 

On  Molly's  other  hand  was  Archie, 
Fred's  eldest  brother,  the  family  oracle. 
He  had  been  told  by  his  aunt  and  sisters 
that  he  was  wonderful  so  often  that  he  had 
begun  to  think  there  must  be  something  in 
323 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

it.  Molly,  saying  to  herself,  "This  is  the 
man  who  used  to  make  me  cry,"  was  now 
trying  her  best  to  make  him  talk.  Archie 
did  not  even  try.  To  him  she  was  only  his 
impractical  brother's  improvident  wife.  If 
she  had  been  anybody  else's  wife  he  would 
have  found  her  interesting.  But  they  were 
kept  apart  by  the  very  thing  that  had 
brought  them  together — their  relationship. 
They  knew  too  much  about  each  other,  and 
cared  too  little.  He  knew  how  hard  up 
the  artist  branch  of  the  family  often  was, 
and  she  knew  that  the  widow  had  brought 
Archie  a  substantial  income  of  her  own,  with 
which  he  now  did  good  to  the  poor. 

Archie  did  not  seem  to  care  for  Molly's 
views  on  Pragmatism,  so  she  glanced  down 
the  table  to  see  how  the  others  were  getting 
on.  At  this  dinner  it  was  easier  to  pick 
out  the  couples  who  were  talking  than  those 
who  were  not. 

Uncle  Thomas  was  having  a  very  good 

time   talking   to   Sophia,   who    sat   on   the 

other  side  of  Archie.     She  was  a  German, 

whom   brother   Roger   had   married   while 

324 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

taking  his  degree  at  Leipzig,  and  though 
the  family  had  finally  forgiven  Roger  for 
this,  they  had  never  quite  forgiven  Sophia. 
But  they  tried  to  show  her  that  they  were 
treating  her  just  as  kindly  as  if  she  were 
forgivable  and  that  it  took  a  Carroll  to  rise 
to  such  heights.  Roger  and  Sophia  lived 
upon  an  assistant  professor's  salary,  with 
more  children  than  they  had  any  business 
having.  Incidentally  they  were  about  the 
happiest  of  the  lot.  Archie,  who  had  been 
tossing  her  a  few  fraternal  inquiries,  thought 
he  was  indulgently  kind  to  her,  while  she 
felt  herself — and  especially  her  brilliant  hus 
band — to  be  serenely  superior  to  all  that 
Archie  considered  success. 

Uncle  Thomas  was  an  old  bachelor,  and 
boasted  of  never  having  missed  but  one 
funeral  in  the  entire  connection,  and  that 
happened  when  he  was  travelling.  That, 
it  was  said,  was  why  he  had  never  travelled 
since.  The  family  was  large  and  some 
body  might  take  an  unfair  advantage  of 
him.  Uncle  Thomas  was  quite  wealthy, 
and  Sophia  was  listening  with  rapt  atten- 
325 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

tion  to  the  history  of  the  Carroll  family 
during  the  American  Revolution.  She  and 
Roger  had  named  their  second  boy  Thomas. 
Aunt  Bella  was  also  enjoying  herself, 
because  she  was  giving  the  architect  the 
benefit  of  her  views  on  architecture.  He 
was  buoyed  up  by  the  prospect  of  one  of 
Fred's  good  cigars  when  at  last. the  meal 
would  be  over.  It  seemed  to  him  a  crime 
to  spoil  such  a  good  dinner  with  nothing 
but  water,  and  he  glanced  across  the  table 
at  his  wife,  who  winked  at  him.  She  was 
named  after  Aunt  Bella,  but  was  a  very 
different  Bella.  For  since  her  marriage 
she  had  become  one  of  the  most  emanci 
pated  of  the  lot,  had  acquired  the  modern 
boldness  in  ideas  and  the  expression  thereof, 
and  prattled  constantly  about  her  sense  of 
humor,  thus  proving  how  much  she  had. 
Her  pose  did  not  go  very  well  with  her  face. 
The  younger  Bella  wa's  tenderly  beautiful. 
Her  brother  Fred,  the  painter,  gazed  at  her 
idolatrously,  as  he  always  did.  Though  he 
despised  her — as  only  a  brother  can  despise 
a  sister  whose  poses  are  as  familiar  as  her 
326 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

garments — yet  with  her  adorable  profile  she 
was  helping  him  wonderfully  through  his 
jolly  family  reunion. 

Aunt  Bella  had  no  husband  to  contribute 
to  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  but  she 
was  the  chief  conservator  of  the  Carroll 
traditions,  including  the  immemorial  one 
they  were  now  ably  illustrating,  of  being 
bored  to  death  whenever  they  foregathered. 
She  would  not  allow  gossip,  and  made 
general  talk  impossible,  because  unless  you 
believed  as  she  believed  you  were  made 
to  feel — not  only  by  her  but  by  those  who 
were  afraid  of  her — like  an  alien  and  a 
renegade.  As  they  were  sure  to  run  against 
one  of  these  hidden  snags  if  they  let  go 
and  drifted  down  the  current  of  conversa 
tion,  they  had  all  learned  by  experience 
never  to  let  go.  When  it  becomes  neces 
sary  to  stop  and  think  before  saying  any 
thing  most  of  the  time  is  spent  in  think 
ing  and  stopping.  Consequently  the  Car- 
rolls  never  talked.  They  only  conversed. 

That  was  what  most  of  them  were  trying 
their  best  to  do  at  the  present  moment,  all 
327 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

down  that  side  of  the  table  and  up  the  other, 
past  the  silent  engaged  couple,  to  old  Dr. 
Carroll,  who  was  saying,  "If  only  Sarah 
could  be  here  to  enjoy  this  with  us."  Sarah 
was  the  daughter  who  had  been  married 
about  a  year  before. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  this  sigh  was 
heard  by  Harry,  the  youngest,  who  sat 
near  by.  He  was  rather  a  naughty  boy, 
still  in  college,  who  considered  family 
parties  the  limit,  and  looked  with  indulgent 
contempt  upon  all  his  things-in-law,  espe 
cially  the  sad  bird  who  wore  detachable 
cuffs.  But  neither  being  married,  engaged, 
nor  guarded  in  his  utterances,  he  said, 
"Well,  why  isn't  Sarah  here?"  for  he  had 
been  considered  too  young  to  be  informed. 

The  old  gentleman  was  deaf.  His  young 
est  repeated  the  question  in  a  loud  tone. 

Every  one  was  aroused.  Aunt  Bella  and 
two  of  the  other  ladies  answered  in  concert, 
"  Sarah  is  ill." 

"What's  the  matter  with  her?"  he 
blurted  out. 

For  a  moment  silence  reverberated  about 
328 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

the  table.  Then  Aunt  Bella  threw  herself 
into  the  breach.  "Fred,  is  that  a  copy  of 
the  Peale  portrait  of  the  'Signer?' 

Noble  Aunt  Bella! 

This  episode  scared  them  into  a  con 
fused  animation  for  a  few  moments,  all 
trying  to  give  the  illusion  of  not  having 
heard  what  each  was  still  thinking  about. 
But,  of  course,  it  did  not  last  very  long,  and 
all  were  relieved  by  the  interruption  of  the 
telephone  bell  in  the  hall.  Fred  was  sum 
moned.  They  heard  him  calling,  "Yes, 
this  is  Mr.  Carroll."  And  now  might  have 
been  observed  another  familiar  family  phe 
nomenon:  They  were  all  trying  to  talk 
to  show  that  they  were  not  listening,  while 
at  the  same  time  they  were  endeavoring 
to  hear  what  Fred  said  with  a  view  to  guess 
ing  what  was  being  said  to  him.  Natu 
rally,  their  responses  to  one  another  were 
somewhat  vague. 

They  all  knew  what  it  was  before  Fred 

returned  to  the  room,  and  each  knew  that 

all  the  rest  knew,  but  every  one  pretended 

otherwise   while   Fred   proceeded   to   make 

329 


THE  MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

his  announcement  with  becoming  Carroll 
reserve.  "What  do  you  think  has  hap 
pened?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Guess!" 

No  one  could  guess.  They  turned  po 
litely  expectant  faces  toward  him. 

It  was  too  much  for  Molly.  "Oh,  quick! 
Is  it  a  girl  or  a  boy?" 

"It's  a  little  girl,"  said  Fred,  adding,  as 
he  dropped  his  eyes,  "Sarah  is  doing 
splendidly." 

Now  that  it  was  officially  known,  the 
glad  news  was  immediately  repeated  to  the 
happy  grandfather  in  loud  tones  by  several 
voices  at  once — including  Aunt  Bella's. 
The  new  member  of  the  Carroll  family 
and  her  mother  were  now  perfectly  proper 
topics  of  conversation.  Two  minutes  be 
fore  they  had  been  improper. 

But  even  a  new  Carroll,  without  any 
conscious  Carroll  traditions,  could  not  re 
deem  a  Carroll  dinner.  The  talk  soon 
died  down  again,  though  the  grandfather 
continued  to  glow  with  quiet  satisfaction, 
33° 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

apparently  quite  as  happy  as  though  it 
were  the  first  time,  occasionally  asking 
questions — sometimes  rather  embarrassing 
ones,  which  kept  Aunt  Bella  on  the  jump. 
For  in  mellow  old  age,  when  death  is 
near  and  all  life  seems  sweet  and  worthy, 
it  is  difficult  always  to  remember  just  what 
used  to  be  considered  " genteel"  and  what 
"ungenteel." 

Aunt  Bella,  however,  gave  a  worthy  ex 
hibition  of  the  well-known  Carroll  tact. 

Now,  if  Molly  had  not  been  fatigued  by 
her  futile  efforts  to  make  the  party  a  success 
she  might  have  been  able  to  perform  the 
mental  jump  to  the  outside  of  the  family 
circle,  and  thus  enjoy  the  spectacle  from 
the  objective  point  of  view;  but  she  was 
not  accustomed  to  seeing  people  bored  at 
her  table,  and  she  resented  their  establish 
ing  this  atmosphere  of  artificiality  in  her 
house.  Perhaps  she  dreaded  its  becoming 
the  permanent  atmosphere  of  the  new  house 
— which  the  family  called  "Fred's  house" 
quite  as  consistently  as  her  people  called 
it  "Molly's  house." 

331 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

It  was  the  incident  of  the  game  course 
which  brought  about  a  climax.  The  quail 
which  now  came  on  had  been  shot  by  Fred 
himself  the  month  before,  and  they  had 
been  hanging  for  this  famous  occasion  not 
wisely  but  too  long.  They  had  been  beau 
tifully  cooked,  after  a  manner  well  known 
in  Molly's  family,  enclosed  in  an  envelope 
of  oiled  paper  to  retain  the  flavor  and  juices. 

So  it  was  not  discovered  that  the  birds 
had  been  kept  too  long  until  the  family, 
with  polite  expressions  of  interest  (to  show 
they  were  not  jealous  of  Molly's  originality), 
opened  the  dainty  envelopes,  then  each 
member  of  the  family  in  turn  seemed  to  find 
it  necessary  to  lean  far  back  in  his  chair, 
operating  knives  and  forks  at  arm's-length. 
Molly  burst  out  laughing  and  ordered  the  of 
fending  little  birds  removed  from  the  room. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Aunt  Bella;  "they 
are  very  nice,  I'm  sure.  Connoisseurs  pre 
fer  them  this  way."  But  she  was  pretend 
ing  to  blow  her  nose. 

Molly  laughed  again — this  time  almost 
pleading  with  them  to  laugh  with  her.  She 
332 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

laughed  alone.  Even  young  Harry,  the 
naughty  boy,  was  displaying  his  good  man 
ners.  "Oh,  Aunt  Bella/'  she  cried,  still 
trying  to  relieve  the  tension;  "you're  a 
vegetarian,  you  can  get  out  of  it,  but  spare 
the  others!"  and  she  signalled  the  ser 
vants  to  hurry. 

"Such  was  not  my  intention,"  said  Aunt 
Bella  in  the  manner  of  the  unappreci 
ated. 

Again  Molly  began  to  laugh  and  again 
alone.  She  stopped  abruptly.  It  was  the 
last  straw.  She  ceased  to  struggle.  It  was 
no  use.  The  party  was  a  failure.  If  they 
preferred  to  do  it  this  way,  let  them  do 
it.  She  washed  her  hands  of  them.  Once 
more  she  looked  down  the  double  row  of 
polite  masks.  "And  this/'  she  said  to  her 
self,  "is  what  I  am  expected  to  endure  for 
the  rest  of  my  life!"  She  gazed  at  her 
husband  with  dull,  uninterested  eyes.  He 
seemed  to  be  as  bad  as  any  of  them.  He 
was  a  Carroll.  She  was  an  outsider.  It 
was  one  of  those  moments  when  she  won 
dered  how  she  had  ever  married  him. 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

She  turned  and  scrutinized  his  brother 
Archie  beside  her.  He  wore  the  character 
istic  Carroll  look  of  expressionless  reserve, 
his  lack-lustre  gaze  upon  the  table-cloth  at 
an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  He  had  said 
nothing  for  ten  minutes.  Apparently  he 
saw  nothing,  thought  nothing,  expected 
nothing. 

She  could  not  very  well  stick  a  pin  into 
him,  but  as  it  happened  she  startled  him 
almost  as  much.  Yielding  to  a  sudden 
impulse  she  leaned  close  to  his  mask  and 
said,  "Booh!" 

Archie  jumped  as  though  an  electric  cur 
rent  had  passed  through  him  and  ejacu 
lated  involuntarily,  "Why  booh?"  Then 
hearing  his  own  words  and  realizing  their 
utter  absurdity,  he  blushed  and  blinked  at 
her  helplessly. 

"Well,  not  necessarily  'booh,'"  Molly 
replied  with  whimsical  gravity,  apparently 
not  in  the  least  confused.  "I  was  merely 
wondering  if  you  were  as  bored  as  you  look. 
But  it's  really  of  no  consequence."  Then 
with  a  conventional  smile  she  relaxed  into 

334 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

her  chair  again,  as  though  quite  willing  tc 
drop  the  situation  she  had  created. 

But  this  was  not  to  be.  There  was  a 
spark  of  life  in  that  childish  "booh"  of 
hers,  the  first  vital  utterance  these  two  had 
ever  produced.  It  was  not  to  die  at  birth; 
it  was  to  mature  and  bear  fruit. 


Ill 

She  had  surprised  him,  but  now  he 
stopped  blinking  and  surprised  her. 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  replied,  per 
fectly  cool,  "I  couldn't  possibly  look  as 
bored  as  I  am." 

"Dear  me!"  she  returned  glancing  at 
him  with  real  interest  and  a  little  more 
respect,  "it's  even  worse  than  I  feared!" 

"But  it's  not  your  fault,"  he  remarked 
pleasantly.  "We  always  are  bored,  you 
know,  when  we  get  together." 

"I  did  not  dream  of  its  being  my  fault," 
she  said.    "  It's  one  of  the  Carroll  customs. 
Even  those  who  are  only  Carrolls  by  mar 
riage  soon  acquire  it!" 
335 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

It  was  rather  neat. 

"You  mean  that  you  are  just  as  bored  as 
I  am?" 

"More  so,  if  possible." 

They  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed 
—the  first  real  laugh  they  had  ever  had 
together.  They  enjoyed  it. 

"Well,  there's  nothing  like  family  unity," 
said  Archie.  "We  aren't  the  only  victims. 
Look  at  the  rest  of  them!" 

But  even  while  these  two  impious  ones 
were  exchanging  their  blasphemies,  speak 
ing  in  low  tones  with  heads  close  together 
to  avoid  being  overheard,  a  subtle  change 
in  the  atmosphere  of  the  table  had  begun. 
Aunt  Bella,  ever  on  the  alert,  ever  deter 
mined  to  know  everything  that  was  being 
said  and  thought,  wondered  what  these  two 
were  discussing  with  such  unwonted  ani 
mation,  such  close  intimacy! 

"It's  a  rather  amusing  sight,"  Archie  was 
saying  in  a  low  tone. 

"Sometimes,"  smiled  Molly. 

"Always,"  corrected  Archie. 

"Not  when  you're  the  hostess."  She 
336 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

was  still  smiling,  carelessly,  but  Archie  was 
quick  and  felt  a  sudden  appreciation  of 
her  situation. 

But  he  was  not  the  kind  who  knows  how 
to  express  sympathy,  so  he  only  smiled— he 
had  his  father's  smile — and  said,  "Well, 
what  did  you  expect  ?  You've  been  one  of 
us  now  long  enough  to  know  better." 

Molly  really  liked  this  more  than  if  he 
had  become  serious.  "Oh,  yes,"  she  said, 
"Fred  and  I  deserve  it,  I  suppose,  for  daring 
to  plot  against  the  sacred  custom.  We'll 
never  try  it  again." 

"So  that  was  it!"  Archie  exclaimed.  "I 
had  been  wondering  how  to  account  for 
your  inviting  us.  Of  course,  I  knew  it 
wasn't  because  you  wanted  us." 

"Not  in  the  least.  Why  should  we  want 
you?" 

"Quite  so.     No  more  than  we  wanted  to 


come." 


"Why  did  you  come,  by  the  way?" 
"Probably  for  the  same  reason,  though 
you  didn't  realize  it,  that  you  invited  us— 
an  instinct  deeper  than  our  conscious  de- 

337 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

sires,  more  potent  than  our  personal  pref 
erences." 

A  bit  didactic,  perhaps,  but  interesting  all 
the  same  to  Molly.  Clearly,  he  too,  had 
looked  this  matter  in  the  face.  Now  they 
were  both  looking  it  in  the  face  together. 
Therefore  they  were  no  longer  bored,  and 
this  shows  that  boredom  can  commit  sui 
cide  with  the  God-given  gift  of  speech. 

The  little  leaven  of  life  in  Molly's  "booh!" 
was  spreading.  Others  besides  Aunt  Bella 
were  now  feeling  the  sudden  flare  of  anima 
tion  at  one  corner  of  the  table.  It  was  not 
a  customary  sight  this,  two  members  of  the 
family  enjoying  each  other's  society  for 
several  consecutive  minutes.  It  made  the 
observers  rather  nervous.  They  had  a 
firm  conviction  that  it  would  soon  die  a 
natural  death — if  not  a  violent  one — by  be 
ing  dashed  to  pieces  against  one  of  the  fam 
ily  taboos.  But  meanwhile,  just  to  show 
that  they  were  not  noticing  this  unprece 
dented  thing  or  feeling  the  slightest  appre 
hension,  they  all  proceeded  to  give  an  illu 
sion  of  conversation.  Aunt  Bella  asked  the 
338 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

architect  if  he  did  not  greatly  admire  Rus- 
kin's  "Stones  of  Venice."  What  the  archi 
tect  wanted  to  reply  shall  not  be  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  such  a  refined  family.  So  he 
lied  and  said,  "Oh,  tremendously,"  and 
swallowed  another  glass  of  water. 

"I  mean,"  Archie  was  now  saying  to 
Molly,  "that  whether  we  like  it  or  not, 
we  are  bound  together  by  ties  of  mutual  in 
terest,  communal  feeling.  We  are  all  in  the 
family  and  we  can't  get  out.  Now  you 
may  hate  me " 

"But,  somehow,  I  don't,"  interrupted 
Molly,  looking  at  him  critically.  "At 
least,  not  so  much  now  that  I've  made  you 
talk." 

"Well,  then — I  may  hate  you,"  Archie 
went  on  imperturbably;  "but  your  children 
and  my  children  have  some  of  the  same 
blood  in  their  veins.  It's  hard  luck,  but 
they  can't  help  it.  You  can  divorce  Fred, 
but  you  can't  divorce  your  children.  You 
and  I  are  bound  together  irrevocably." 

Molly  looked  at  him  a  moment.  "Dear 
me!"  she  said;  "what  a  prospect!  Once  a 
339 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

year,  as  long  as  we  live,  you  and  I  must 
meet  and  bore  each  other." 

"It's  pretty  bad,"  said  Archie.  "There's 
only  one  thing  worse,  and  that  would  be 
not  to  do  it  at  all.  Little-minded  people 
who  want  to  destroy  the  family,  simply  be 
cause  it  is  imperfect  like  the  church,  or  mar 
riage  itself,  or  any  of  our  institutions,  usually 
haven't  wisdom  or  imagination  enough  to 
consider  the  alternative.  What  is  the  use 
of  knocking  down  even  bad  things  unless 
you  can  stick  better  things  up  ?" 

"But  why  have  so  many  'things'?" 
Molly  inquired.  "It's  all  habit." 

"Habit  founded  upon  human  cravings — 
cravings  which  can't  be  suppressed." 

"I  believe  I  could  suppress  my  human 
craving  for  family  parties,"  said  Molly. 
She  said  it  in  the  quiet  way  she  did  her 
joking,  as  though  not  much  impressed  by 
the  joke. 

Archie  burst  into  a  laugh.  He  was  get 
ting  an  occasional  inkling  of  what  Fred  saw 
in  this  girl.  The  others  heard  the  laugh  and 
wondered.  They  all  knew  Archie's  real 
340 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

laugh  from  his  assumed  merriment.     This 
was  his  real  laugh. 

"But  then  you  would  probably  get  ostra 
cized  from  the  family,  and  that  would  hardly 
pay.  It's  easier  to  come  and  get  bored." 

"  But  why  be  bored  ?  Why  can't  we  have 
a  merry,  congenial  time  together  like  other 
families?" 

"What  other  families?  Do  you  mean  to 
say  you  enjoy  your  own  family  reunions?" 

Molly  laughed  and  colored,  but  she  was 
game.  "Well,  when  we  get  together  we 
always  fight,"  she  said  drolly,  and  Archie 
laughed  again.  "Oh,  we  enjoy  the  fight 
ing,"  she  added  demurely.  "  Of  course,  you 
Carrolls  wouldn't.  You  prefer  to  suffer  in 
silence."  He  laughed  again  at  this.  ("What 
are  they  talking  about  up  there?"  thought 
the  family.  Suppose  they  had  known!) 
"You  see,  my  people  are  the  kind  who  talk 
without  thinking.  The  Carrolls  think  with 
out  talking.  Your  way  is  more  polite,  ours 
is  more  exciting." 

"Naturally  you  think  yours  is  the  better 
way." 

34i 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"And  you,  that  yours  is  the  better  way/' 

"Whereas,  neither  is  the  better  way. 
They  are  merely  different." 

"  But  you  could  never  get  your  family  to 
admit  that!" 

"Nor  yours,"  said  Archie,  and  this  time 
it  was  Molly's  laugh  that  the  perplexed 
family  heard — and  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"All  of  which  proves  nothing,"  said 
Molly. 

"It  proves  everything,"  rejoined  Archie. 
"It  shows  exactly  why  a  large  family  can't 
have  a  good  time  together,  when  once  it's 
got  apart  by  marrying.  We  represent  so 
many  and  such  various  family  habits  and 
traditions — no  two  alike,  except  in  com 
placently  thinking  themselves  the  best." 

"We  could  resolve  all  those  differences 
or  make  a  composite  of  them,  if  we  only 
talked — expressed,  not  repressed,  ourselves 
all  the  time." 

"In  other  words,  become  like  your  fam 
ily  ? "  asked  Archie  twinkling. 

Molly  laughed  and  blushed.  He  had 
caught  her  neatly.  "Dear  me,  Archie, 
342 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

you  are  something  of  an  oracle,  aren't  you  ? 
If  I'm  not  careful,  I  shall  soon  learn  to  like 
you,  even  though  you  are  my  brother-in- 
law." 

"I've  already  begun  to  .like  you,"  he 
whispered  gallantly. 

"Good!"  she  returned  triumphantly. 
"It's  all  because  I  made  you  talk.  Aha! 
That's  why  you're  no  longer  bored!" 

She  rather  had  him  there.  "That's  so," 
he  said,  "I'm  afraid  I'm  not."  And  they 
ended,  laughing  with  the  same  civilized  joy 
that  comes  in  a  sharp  volleying  rally  at 
tennis  between  two  well-matched  players 
enjoying  each  other's  skill  too  keenly  to  care 
much  which  wins  such  an  interesting  point. 

By  this  time  the  whole  family  was  alert 
and  watching — though,  of  course,  no  one 
would  have  suspected  it  from  their  de 
meanor,  except  those  who  knew  the  Carrolls. 
It  was  a  sort  of  rippling  wonder  like  that 
of  a  stagnant  pool  awakened  by  the  whis 
perings  of  the  coming  storm. 

Even  the  absorption  of  the  engaged  couple 
was  penetrated.  They  stopped  thinking 

343 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

about  the  loggia  into  which  they  meant 
to  disappear  after  dinner,  and  exchanged 
glances  which  meant,  "When  we  are  mar 
ried  we  shall  never  want  to  whisper  and 
laugh  with  any  one  but  each  other."  Young 
Harry,  the  naughty  boy,  also  observed,  and 
also  disapproved.  His  brothers  always 
seemed  tiresome  when  talking  to  women. 

The  only  ones  at  the  table  unmoved  were 
Uncle  Thomas  and  Father  Carroll,  but  they 
really  did  not  need  stirring  up,  because 
they  were  already  perfectly  happy.  The 
former  was  telling  Sophia  with  great  relish 
what  a  certain  distinguished  Carroll  an 
cestor  had  said  to  Lafayette  and  what  La 
fayette  said  to  him.  As  for  Dr.  Carroll, 
he  was  still  beaming  contentedly,  though 
rather  sleepily  now,  as  he  asked,  "What 
do  you  suppose  they  will  name  her?"  He 
had  hopes,  dear  old  boy,  of  Sarah's  decid 
ing  on  Margaret.  It  had  been  his  wife's 
name. 

Now,  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  were 
Molly's  husband  Fred  and  Archie's  wife 
Julia.  She  was  the  one  on  whose  account 

344 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

the  family  considerately  avoided  references 
to  second  marriages,  of  which  the  female 
members  of  the  family  severely  disap 
proved.  Julia  would  not  have  minded  the 
references  or  the  disapproval  in  the  least, 
but  the  palpable  attempts  to  cover  both 
sometimes  annoyed  her.  She  was  a  pretty, 
frivolous  woman,  exquisitely  dressed,  but 
felt  choked  by  the  lack  of  air,  sparkle,  and 
gayety  of  the  world  she  was  accustomed  to. 
She  and  Fred,  naturally,  had  been  among 
the  first  to  be  awakened  by  their  spouses' 
unprecedented  conduct,  so  unbecoming  in  a 
Carroll.  Husbands  and  wives  are  apt  to 
glance  at  each  other  frequently  at  family  re 
unions.  Julia  caught  Fred  at  it,  and  Fred 
caught  Julia  at  it  so  often — and  Julia  tried 
to  show  Fred,  and  Fred  tried  to  show  Julia, 
so  persistently  that  each  thought  nothing  of 
it — that  it  became  almost  laughable,  and 
indeed  they  might  have  laughed  had  it 
been  anywhere  but  at  a  family  reunion. 
Finally,  it  reached  a  pitch  where  even  the 
Carroll  reserve  was  burst.  So,  "Isn't  it 
outrageous?"  remarked  Julia  in  her  indo- 

345 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

lent  manner,  "the  way  my  husband  is  mak 
ing  love  to  your  wife/' 

She  had  hoped  to  shock  him,  but  Fred 
swung  into  position  with  surprising  alacrity. 
"But  it's  nothing,"  he  said,  "to  the  shame 
less  way  my  wife  is  making  eyes  at  your 
husband." 

And  these  two,  in  turn,  looked  at  each 
other  with  new  eyes,  almost  with  interest. 

"But  I  really  can't  blame  Archie,"  said 
Julia  with  some  enthusiasm,  "Molly  is  so 
very  good-looking." 

Fred  liked  that  so  much  more  than  her 
praise  of  his  canvases.  "Still,"  he  re 
marked  reflectively,  "it  isn't  as  if  he  were 
obliged  to  come  to  my  home  for  that  sort  of 
thing." 

It  was  the  first  compliment  he  had  ever 
paid  her,  and  it  wasn't  much  of  a  compli 
ment  at  that,  but  she  approved  of  his  trying, 
at  any  rate.  So  she  smiled  indulgently  at 
him  and  said,  "Oh,  I've  known  artists  be 
fore!"  She  knew  them!  (Even  if  she  did 
call  painters  "artists,"  which  Fred  and  his 
crowd  did  not  fancy.) 
346 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Fred  saw  the  indulgent  smile.  It  piqued 
him.  He  didn't  want  her  to  think  that  this 
was  the  best  he  could  do.  He  wasn't 
warmed  up  yet.  The  machinery  creaks 
when  it  has  been  out  of  use.  Meanwhile  he 
bestowed  upon  her  a  rather  authoritative 
glance  of  appreciation,  being  an  artist.  She 
was  good  to  look  at — somehow  he  hadn't 
realized  before  quite  how  good.  He  inti 
mated  as  much. 

"Dear  me!"  she  exclaimed  to  encourage 
him.  "I  had  no  idea  you  could  be  so  nice/' 
It  was  an  affected  tone,  but  Fred  did  not 
mind  that  so  much  now;  for  she  shot  such  a 
brilliant  smile  as  she  said  it,  the  kind  she 
ordinarily  employed  when  dining  out  in 
town. 

Thus  also  these  two  lumberingly  got 
under  way.  It  was  rather  lukewarm  badi 
nage,  but  it  was  better  than  ingrowing 
thoughts,  so  they  left  off  their  repeated 
questions  about  their  offspring. 

Alas!  this,  also,  was  observed  by  the 
perplexed  Aunt  Bella,  but  as  their  manner 
was  more  open  and  less  confidential,  it 
347 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

was  to  the  other  end  of  the  table  that  the 
good  lady's  glances  more  frequently  wan 
dered.  It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that 
she  was  shocked.  There  was  nothing  to 
shock,  even  her — as  yet.  But  she  did  not 
like  it.  It  was  not  what  she  was  accustomed 
to.  It  was  not  "like  us."  Therefore  it 
must  be  wrong. 

Archie  had  been  quoting  Mr.  Chester 
ton  to  Molly.  "Oh,  it's  easy  enough  for 
Chesterton  to  say  the  '  family  is  a  good 
thing  because  it  is  uncongenial,'  "  she  re 
joined,  "but  he  never  had  to  dine  with  this 
family.  What  good  does  our  uncongenial- 
ity  do  us!  We  don't  allow  it  to  do  us  any 
good.  We  cover  it  up.  We  pretend  there 
isn't  any.  We're  all  so  afraid  of  saying 
something  some  one  else  won't  like  that 
we  don't  say  anything.  So  we  miss  all 
the  *  romance' — as  he  calls  it — of  family 
life,  meaning  the  fighting,  and  just  slump! 
Sitting  around  looking  sweet  and  refined 
and  becoming  unutterably  bored  and  get 
ting  nothing  out  of  it  except  mutual  con 
tempt  and  a  loathing  for  family  parties. 
348 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

I'd  a  good  deal  rather  have  my  feelings  hurt 
once  in  a  while  than  be  bored  all  the  time." 

Archie  thought  her  quite  delicious  when 
she  unconsciously  mimicked  the  Carroll 
repose.  "All  the  same/'  he  said,  "deep 
down  under  all  this  emotional  repression 
there  is  plenty  of  real  feeling  and  fondness. 
We  simply  don't  know  how  to  express  it. 
We're  all  so  afraid  of  vulgar  exposure  of  the 
feelings.  But  let  death  or  disaster,"  he 
went  on,  "come  to  any  of  us  and  you'll  see 
the  inherent  kindness  and  the  essential 
unity  of  the  family  butting  in  through  the 
icy  reserve  and  the  superficial  uncongeni- 
ality  and  everything  else." 

"Yes,"  said  Molly,  "you  really  seem  to 
let  go  and  enjoy  yourselves  at  funerals. 
Sorry  I  couldn't  arrange  one  for  you." 

"Any  other  hard  luck  would  do  quite  as 
well.  Some  impending  disgrace  would  be 
better  yet — it  lasts  longer.  They  would  all 
rally  around  to  avert  it.  There's  nothing 
like  a  family  skeleton  for  keeping  alive  the 
family  spirit." 

"But,  of  course,  you  have  nothing  of  the 

349 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

sort  in  your  clean,  Carroll  closets.  You  are 
all  so  horribly  good.  Now,  if  it  were  only 
my  family — oh,  I  could  rattle  a  few  bones 
for  you!" 

"There  you  go,"  said  Archie  dryly, 
"boasting  about  your  own  family  again." 

Molly  laughed  appreciatively.  "Well, 
make  a  skeleton  of  your  own,  then!" 

"What  would  you  suggest?" 

"You  might  have  tried  drinking  too 
much,"  she  said  reproachfully,  as  she  arose 
to  lead  the  ladies  away  to  the  living-room, 
"but  it's  too  late  now." 

"Too  much!"  jibed  Archie  with  a  glance 
up  and  down  the  dry  table,  as  he  drew  back 
her  chair. 

Again  she  laughed  intimately.  "I  for 
got,"  she  whispered  with  a  shrug.  "Aunt 
Bella,  you  know!" 

He  knew,  and  he  blessed  her  inwardly 
for  sparing  his  aunt's  feelings.  "It's  your 
party,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear  as  he  took  a 
step  toward  the  door  with  her,  "your  house, 
your  closets — you  are  the  one  to  supply  the 
skeleton." 

35° 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Then  they  laughed  gayly  and  separated, 
not  dreaming  that  they  had  already  begun 
a  charming  little  skeleton  together — only  a 
counterfeit  one,  to  be  sure,  but  if  properly 
manipulated  it  might  answer  the  worthy 
purpose  almost  as  well. 


IV 

While  the  men  were  still  smoking  and 
laughing  as  much  as  possible  at  one  an 
other's  stories,  Archie  arose  and  left  the 
room  in  his  abrupt  manner.  He  didn't  feel 
like  attempting  the  illusion  just  now.  The 
muscles  of  his  cheeks  were  already  some 
what  fatigued  from  having  performed  his 
full  share  of  forced  smiles  during  the  day. 
Besides,  he  wanted  to  talk  to  Molly.  As 
is  usually  the  case,  after  a  discussion  he 
thought  of  several  good  points  with  which 
to  floor  her. 

As  Archie  did  not  smoke,  his  exit  caused 
no  remark  among  the  men.  But  when  he 
joined  the  ladies,  now  pleasantly  engaged  in 
discussing  their  children's  ailments,  he  made 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

straight  for  Molly  and  drew  a  chair  close  to 
hers. 

A  sudden  silence  greeted  this  astonishing 
spectacle.  Aunt  Bella  was  the  first  to  re 
cover.  "I  think  we  shall  have  rain,"  she 
said,  averting  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  it  feels  like  a  storm."  It  was  the 
first  time  Sophia  had  ever  agreed  with  Aunt 
Bella. 

Undoubtedly  Molly  had  looked  up  with 
welcoming  interest  when  Archie  approached. 
The  ladies  had  seen  her  eyes  brighten.  One 
of  them  being  in  the  shadow,  could  not  re 
sist  the  shameful  temptation  to  glance  at 
Archie's  wife.  But  Julia  looked  indifferent. 
(She,  poor  girl,  would  have  to  keep  on  dis 
cussing  adenoids  and  modified  milk  for  a 
while  longer.) 

Now,  it  was  quite  impossible  to  talk  the 
family  over  with  the  family  so  near  by — and 
apparently  so  willing  to  listen  to  what  one 
had  to  say  —  so  Archie  twiddled  his  thumbs 
nervously.  This,  too,  was  noticed  and  con 
sidered.  Presently  Molly  arose  to  poke  the 
fire.  Then,  as  if  by  preconcerted  design, 
352 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

she  and  Archie  retreated  to  a  distant  window 
seat  and  began  talking  in  low  tones,  Archie 
smiling  eagerly  and  bending  forward  to  look 
into  her  eyes.  Aunt  Bella's  virgin  bosom 
rose  and  then  fell  quakingly.  She  had 
feared  as  much! 

Archie's  suspiciously  gallant  attitude  and 
suspiciously  whispered  tones  were  for  the 
purpose  of  making  the  following  flirtatious 
declaration:  "The  trouble  with  you,  Molly, 
is  that  you  look  upon  the  family  gathering  as 
a  social  function.  It's  a  religious  ceremony. 
It  isn't  meant  to  be  enjoyed." 

"And  the  trouble  with  you,  Archie,  is 
that  even  you,  in  this  generation,  can't  help 
regarding  everything  enjoyable  as  per  se 
bad.  Therefore,  to  be  good,  a  thing  must  be 
disagreeable.  For  my  part  I  don't  believe 
in  keeping  up  even  religious  ceremonies  un 
less  they  are  more  than  ceremonies.  I  want 
to  enjoy  them.  There  has  got  to  be  real 
feeling  in  my  worship  or  else  it's  not  wor 
ship  at  all,  but  sacrilege.  That's  why  I 
don't  go  to  church." 

353 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

They  fought  it  out  on  this  line  for  several 
congenial  minutes. 

"Molly,  when  did  Fred  do  that  charm 
ing  Sicilian  boy?"  This  from  Aunt  Bella, 
much  interested,  apparently,  in  a  sketch  she 
had  never  noticed  before  upon  the  book 
shelves. 

Molly  replied  absently:  "The  last  time 
we  were  in  Sicily,  Aunt  Bella,"  and  went  on 
talking  to  Archie. 

It  seemed  odd  that  she  did  not  even  try 
to  disguise  her  interest  in  her  husband's 
brother.  "It  is  a  beautiful  head,"  re 
marked  Aunt  Bella,  and  the  other  ladies 
affably  agreed  with  her.  Molly  apparently 
was  too  much  absorbed  to  hear. 

Presently  she  excused  herself  to  go  up 
stairs  for  a  look  into  the  nursery. 

Aunt  Bella  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"She  is  such  a  devoted  mother,"  said 
Sophia  with  unwonted  enthusiasm.  Sophia 
was  a  devoted  mother  herself,  so  she  ought 
to  know. 

"And  wife,"  put  in  Aunt  Bella,  with  a 
354 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

glance  at  Archie.  It  was  almost  a  vulgar 
exposure  of  enthusiasm,  but  the  situation 
demanded  it. 

This  did  not  interest  Archie,  so  he  scowled 
and  said  nothing.  They  saw  the  scowl. 
They  remembered  it  later.  At  the  moment 
they  were  all  watching  his  face  in  suppressed 
excitement.  For  he  now  heard  Molly's  re 
turning  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  His  eyes 
brightened.  He  was  sauntering  out  into 
the  hall!  He  was  meeting  her!  Together 
they  were  stepping  into  the  secluded  studio! 
(So  they  would  not  be  interrupted  again.) 

Several  of  the  ladies  now  began  to  talk  at 
once  to  show  they  had  not  noticed  anything. 
One  of  them  remarked  upon  the  charm  of 
the  open  fire,  another  upon  the  excellence 
of  Fred's  work,  and  a  third  upon  the  fact 
that  the  men  were  smoking  an  unusually 
long  time  this  evening.  Perhaps  they  were 
anxious  for  the  approach  of  calm,  masculine 
judgment.  Perhaps  they  were  dreading 
Fred's  arrival. 

The  only  ones  in  the  room  who  did  not  go 
through  these  motions  and  emotions  were 
355 


THE    MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

Archie's  wife,  the  worldly  Julia,  who  was 
biting  her  lips  to  keep  from  smiling,  and  Aunt 
Bella's  unworthy  namesake,  who  wanted  to 
be  worldly  but  didn't  quite  know  how.  She 
was  keenly  interested  and  welcomed  with 
relish  the  supposed  flirtation.  It  gave  her 
new  hopes  for  her  hopelessly  prim  and  pro 
vincial  family.  She  was  the  one  who,  a  few 
minutes  before,  had  been  so  inconsiderate  as 
to  steal  a  glance  at  Archie's  wife.  And  now, 
with  the  heartlessness  of  the  worldly  minded, 
she  did  so  again.  Their  amused  glances 
met,  fled,  returned  and  rested  upon  one  an 
other  for  a  moment.  .  .  .  And  in  that  mo 
ment  these  two  became  understanding 
friends  instead  of  misunderstanding  sisters- 
in-law. 

At  this  point  the  men  came  in,  with  quite 
the  air  of  having  had  a  jovial  half-hour  over 
the  cigars  and  coffee — their  approach  being 
heralded  by  one  of  Aunt  Bella's  orthodox 
exhibitions  of  forced-draught  animation. 
Quite  unnecessary,  because  the  men  ob 
served  nothing  amiss.  Men  are  notoriously 
obtuse  in  such  matters.  The  old  gentleman 

as* 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

made  for  Fred's  deep  leather  chair  and 
straightway  went  to  sleep.  Fred  made  for 
Julia's  corner  and  went  on  from  where  he 
had  left  off  with  her  at  dinner.  The  others 
sank  down  into  the  places  fate  provided  for 
them  and  wondered  how  soon  they  could 
decently  go  to  bed. 

Presently,  in  a  natural  pause,  Fred  asked 
Julia  where,  by  the  way,  were  Archie  and 
Molly. 

"Ask  Aunt  Bella/'  suggested  Julia  mis 
chievously. 

Fred  did  so. 

The  answer  came  unhesitatingly.  "Molly 
is  showing  him  the  new  portrait  you  have 
made  of  her,  I  believe."  For,  of  course, 
Aunt  Bella  had  prepared  for  this  emer 
gency. 

When  presently  the  suspected  pair  re 
turned  to  the  fold,  the  inevitable  and  obvious 
happened.  Fred,  forgetting  to  conceal  his 
artist's  eagerness,  said,  "Well,  what  do  you 
think  of  it,  Archie  ? " 

"Think  of  what?" 

"The  head." 

357 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"What  head?" 

"The  head  of  Molly." 

Archie,  somewhat  puzzled,  turned  and 
looked  at  Molly's  hair.  "I  think  it's  beau 
tiful,"  he  said  boldly. 

"Fred's  portrait  of  Molly,  Archie,"  put 
in  Aunt  Bella  hurriedly. 

"Oh,  I  forgot  to  show  him  that,"  said 
unegotistical  Molly. 

This  statement  was  followed  by  a  pause 
and  a  vague  feeling  of  unrest. 

"Well,  what  were  you  doing  in  the  studio, 
then,"  asked  Fred  a  little  piqued.  It  was 
the  artist  in  him  and  not  the  husband  that 
spoke.  The  family  noticed  the  tone,  mis 
understood  the  source. 

"Oh,  we  were  just  talking." 

"What  in  the  world  were  you  talking 
about  all  this  time  ?  "  put  in  Julia  brazenly. 
Such  an  unreserved  betrayal  of  wifely  sus 
picion  was  rather  jarring  to  those  members 
of  the  family  who  were  really  suspicious — 
but  when  a  woman  is  jealous  she  forgets  all 
else,  poor  thing.  The  family  considerately 
avoided  looking  at  poor  Julia.  They  were 
358 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

gazing  at  Archie,  waiting  for  his  incrimi 
nating  reply.  But  he  made  no  reply  at  all, 
and  that  was  incriminating  enough.  But  in 
addition  he  shot  a  glance  at  Molly,  knowing 
how  she  would  appreciate  the  humor  of 
being  questioned  about  the  subject  of  their 
studio  conversation — by  the  family  itself. 
This  look  was  still  more  incriminating. 
The  affair  was  becoming  serious. 

The  apparently  casual  gaze  of  the  family 
now  shifted  searchingly  to  Molly. 

"We  were  talking  about  all  sorts  of 
things,"  she  said  with  an  almost  invisible 
smile  at  Archie. 

Almost  invisible,  but  every  woman  in  the 
room  saw  it.  Every  one  of  them  misinter 
preted  it,  except  Julia,  who  knew  her  hus 
band  too  well  to  dream  of  his  flirting  with 
anybody.  She  wished  he  would  do  so.  It 
would  improve  him. 

"Poor  Fred!"  thought  Aunt  Bella,  scan 
dalized. 

"Poor  Julia!"   thought  Sophia,  horrified. 

"Clever  Molly!"  thought  young  Bella, 
admiringly. 

359 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Dear  Herbert!"  thought  the  young 
fiancee,  sentimentally. 

None  of  the  men  saw  or  thought  any 
thing.  They  did  not  dream  that  there  was 
a  skeleton  in  the  family  closet.  But  the 
door  was  now  ajar. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  unanimous  desire 
among  the  feminine  guests  to  go  to  bed 
early  this  evening — or  rather  to  retire,  for 
even  in  the  twentieth  century  the  Carrolls 
still  retired  when  Aunt  Bella  was  around, 
though  they  had  learned  to  say  leg  in  her 
presence  without  being  made  to  feel  that 
they  ought  to  blush. 

"A  railroad  journey  and  a  change  of  air 
— they  always  make  one  sleepy/'  remarked 
Sophia,  who  seemed  to  be  coming  to  the 
fore  midst  the  storm  and  stress  of  these  stir 
ring  events. 

There  was  undoubtedly  a  decided  change 
of  air,  but  the  reason  the  wives  wanted  to 
retire  was  to  get  their  husbands  off  alone  and 
tell  them  all  about  it.  For  that  was  the  way 
gossip  percolated  in  the  refined  Carroll  fam 
ily.  None  of  them  went  to  sleep  for  hoursu 
360 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

The  astonishing  news  was  reported  and 
received  in  various  manners.  The  archi 
tect  roared  with  laughter,  sceptical  but  in 
terested—as  his  wife  knew  he  would  be.  He 
was  a  noisy  fellow  when  removed  from 
the  family  atmosphere.  "What!  Archie? 
Well,  well!  I  didn't  think  it  of  him.  The 
old  sport!"  He  had  always  considered 
Archie  a  prig,  and  had  frequently  felt  a  secret 
desire  to  take  Archie  out  alone  some  even 
ing  and  get  him  very  tight.  So  many  strange, 
unutterable  thoughts  occur  to  brethern 
dwelling  together  in  unity. 

"It's  all  Molly's  doing,"  said  the  younger 
Bella.  "She's  leading  him  on  without  his 
knowing  it.  She's  a  clever  little  thing. 
You've  observed  that  she  has  a  twin 
kle?" 

He  had  not — but  he  secretly  resolved  to 
look  for  it  on  the  morrow. 

Sophia's  report  to  Roger,  the  professor, 
was  given  with  less  amusement,  yet  with 
considerable  relish  in  her  tones  of  regret. 
In  their  little  academic  world  they  were  not 
given  to  flirtations,  even  such  innocent  ones 
361 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

as  she  firmly  hoped  this  to  be.  Her  ideal 
was  sweet,  womanly  absorption  in  her  hus 
band  and  "the  department/'  But  Roger 
counselled  Sophia  that  Archie  and  Molly 
were  merely  silly,  not  horrid,  as  Sophia  was 
inclined  to  believe.  She  always  thought  as 
he  did  on  every  subject,  so  hereafter  she 
would  think  it  merely  silly. 

However,  they  all  had  something  to  look 
forward  to  with  interest  on  the  morrow, 
and  when  at  last  they  went  to  sleep  it  was 
with  the  pleasurable  anticipation  that  even  if 
Sunday  did  prove  to  be  a  rainy  day,  as  Aunt 
Bella  predicted,  the  family  party  would  not 
be  the  usual  bore. 

The  only  ones  not  too  excited  to  fall 
asleep  early  were  those  who  caused  the 
excitement.  But  even  they,  as  had  been 
noted,  had  found  new  interest  in  the  family 
party,  and  they,  too,  indulged  in  the  luxury 
of  conjugal  confidences. 

"Well!"  said  the  host  to  the  hostess, 
"it  seems  to  be  going  all  right  after  all! 
What  got  into  them  this  evening?" 

"I'll  take  back  all  I  ever  said  about 
362 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

Archie/'  declared  Molly  impulsively.  "I 
love  him." 

"I  always  said  you  would,"  Fred  replied 
with  a  younger  brother's  pride.  "He's  not 
a  bad  sort  when  once  you  know  him,  even 
though  he  does  use  big  words.  You  see," 
he  added  in  extenuation,  "lawyers  have  to 
throw  a  bluff.  It's  part  of  the  game." 

She  told  him  what  she  and  Archie  had 
used  big  words  about. 

"But  that  isn't  the  strangest  thing,"  she 
went  on,  "he  likes  me!" 

Fred  saw  nothing  strange  in  that.  He 
merely  thought  better  of  Archie  for  it. 
"Every  one  likes  you,"  he  said,  "when  you 
give  'em  a  chance.  Why,  they  couldn't 
keep  their  eyes  off  you  this  evening,  and 
Aunt  Bella  fairly  hugged  you  when  she  said 
good-night." 

"Oh,  that's  only  because  she's  so  fond 
of  you,  Fred,"  Molly  returned.  "When  I 
took  her  to  her  room  she  said  the  most  de 
lightful  things  about  you.  It  sounded  al 
most  like  an  obituary.  I'm  beginning  to 
believe  they  appreciate  you  after  all.  By 
363 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ihe  way/'  she  added  just  before  going  to 
sleep,  "you  and  Julia  seemed  to  be  hitting 
it  off  better  than  usual/' 

'Yes,  I  began  by  handing  her  a  few  bou 
quets — big  broad  ones.  But  she's  not  such 
a  fool  as  I  thought.  She's  a  nice,  sensible 
girl  underneath,  and  lots  of  fun.  By  the 
way,  she  seems  to  admire  you  a  good  deal." 
For,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  observe,  everybody 
seemed  to  be  liking  everybody  else  more 
than  usual. 

And  so  with  the  soothing  sense  of  success, 
the  host  and  hostess  took  their  well-earned 
rest. 

Archie  and  his  wife,  who  were  quartered 
at  the  country  club  owing  to  the  limited 
capacity  of  Fred's  house,  pretended  to  tease 
and  to  be  teased  on  the  way  back  in  the 
automobile,  a  harmless  diversion  often  en 
joyed  by  married  pairs.  "But  seriously, 
that  girl  can  talk,"  said  Archie. 

"That  means,  she  listened  to  you  talk,  I 
suppose,"  laughed  Julia.  "I  noticed  that 
you  were  working  your  impressive  manner 
pretty  hard." 

364 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"She  has  ideas,"  maintained  Archie. 
"She  has  eyes,  at  any  rate,"  smiled  Julia 
"What  were  you  trying  to  do  with  Fred/' 

rejoined  her  husband — "your  usual  game  ?'5 
"Don't  worry.     Your  little  brother  can 

take  care  of  himself.     He's  by  far  the  best 

of  the  Carrolls." 

"No,"  said  Archie,  "his  wife  is." 
All  of  which  was  helping  the  cause. 


Now  dawned  a  memorable  day  in  the 
annals  of  the  illustrious  Carroll  family.  To 
Molly's  surprise  the  entire  household  was 
down  promptly  for  breakfast.  They  were 
all  afraid  they  might  miss  something. 
Archie  and  his  wife,  to  be  sure,  remained  at 
the  club,  but  it  is  a  significant  tribute  to 
the  skeleton  that,  despite  the  absence  of 
two  of  the  leading  parts  in  the  veiled 
comedy,  even  breakfast  was  interesting. 

The  architect  was  there  to  see  the  twin 
kle.     His   wife   was   there   to  see  whether 
Molly  knew  she  was  suspected  of  using  it, 
365 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Sophia  was  there  to  be  shocked  and  thank 
ful  that  she  was  devoid  of  such  evils.  Roger 
was  there  to  watch  poor  Fred.  Aunt  Bella 
was  there  to  watch  everything. 

Such  were  their  intentions— but  these 
were  their  results: 

The  architect  could  not,  as  it  happened, 
locate  the  twinkle;  Molly's  eyes  were  pretty 
well  occupied  with  coffee  cups.  But  he 
amused  himself  by  looking  around  at  the 
rest  and  wondering  what  Aunt  Bella  thought 
about  it.  His  wife,  in  turn,  could  not  tell 
whether  Molly  knew  she  was  suspected; 
therefore  she  admired  the  highly  finished 
art,  the  woman-of-the-world  ease  of  this 
hitherto  unappreciated  sister-in-law.  Roger 
could  not  tell  from  Fred's  demeanor  whether 
he  wanted  brotherly  sympathy  or  not,  there 
fore  he  decided  to  cultivate  Fred  and  find 
out,  for  the  family  was  "the  unit  of  the 
state."  Sophia  gazing  with  guileless  horror 
at  Molly's  calm  assumption  of  innocence, 
could  not  understand  such  hypocrisy  in  a 
wife  and  mother.  Therefore  Aunt  Bella, 
watching  everything,  saw  Sophia's  face  and 
366 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

forgave  her,  at  last,  for  marrying  Roger. 
Molly,  finally  filling  her  own  cup,  looked  up 
and  caught  the  young  Bella's  admiring 
glance.  Therefore  she  forgave  her  for  being 
so  strenuous  in  her  pose.  The  architect 
noting  Fred's  wholesome  appetite,  decided 
that  he  was  a  good  sport  and  almost  forgave 
his  bad  taste  in  the  choice  of  architects. 

Even  for  a  full-grown,  able-bodied  family 
skeleton  this  would  seem  to  be  a  pretty 
good  Sabbath  day's  journey,  though  break 
fast  was  not  yet  finished,  and  this  was  only 
a  small,  make-believe  skeleton. 

A  note  arrived  at  the  breakfast  table  for 
Molly.  She,  being  busy  with  the  second 
cups  and  important  questions  as  to  lumps 
and  cream,  allowed  it  to  remain  a  moment 
unopened  by  her  plate.  Now,  it  is  easy  to 
believe  that  no  one  intended  to  look  and 
recognize  the  bold  handwriting  on  the  en 
velope,  but  it  cannot  be  denied  that  every 
one  near  enough  did  so,  as  all  the  rest  knew 
by  the  quick  way  they  averted  their  eyes 
again.  Moreover,  from  the  grave,  expres 
sionless  look  of  those  eyes  the  whole  family 
367 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

were  apprised  of  the  fact  that  Molly  had  a 
note  from  Archie,  as  clearly  as  if  she  had 
mounted  her  chair  and  proclaimed  it. 

It  was  furthermore  obvious  that  Archie 
had  made  an  appointment  with  her,  be 
cause  she  declined  to  accompany  the  others 
to  church.  For  in  the  Carroll  family  they 
never  asked,  "Are  you  going  to  church?" 
but  merely,  "How  much  time  should  we 
allow  to  get  there  ? " 

There  was  nothing  to  do  about  it.  To 
speak  of  the  matter  would  only  proclaim 
themselves  suspicious,  and  each  would 
rather  die  than  do  that.  But  all,  now 
watching  everything  with  breathless  inter 
est,  perceived  that  at  last  even  unsuspect 
ing  Fred  was  becoming  aroused.  They 
could  tell  that  from  the  look  he  gave  her 
when  she  made  the  announcement.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  Fred  was  disappointed  in 
her.  He  had  carefully  looked  up  the  local 
Unitarian  church,  rented  a  pew  in  it  for 
the  occasion — in  order  to  spare  his  agea 
father's  feelings — and  he  had  counted  upon 
Molly's  being  there  to  watch  him  lead  the 
368 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

family  up  the  aisle  with  the  air  of  doing  it 
all  his  life.  But  when  she  showed  him  the 
note,  later,  he  agreed  with  Archie  that  a 
spin  in  the  latter's  car  would  be  a  beneficial 
diversion  from  the  nervous  strain  of  enter 
taining  the  whole  family — and  that  by  no 
means  should  she  tell  the  family  that  she 
was  going  motoring  on  Sunday. 

"He  is  behaving  very  well  about  it," 
thought  the  ladies,  observing  poor,  dear 
Fred's  face  as  he  started  off  to  church  with 
them — without  his  wife. 

Julia  also  behaved  very  well  about  it. 
Archie,  the  wretch,  sent  her  to  represent 
his  branch  of  the  family  at  church,  and 
she  seemed  to  be  sweetly,  silently  suffering, 
quite  like  a  real  Carroll,  though  she  was  only 
an  "  in-law."  Incidentally,  she  was  very 
smartly  dressed,  and  the  family  felt  no  less 
proud  of  the  heavenly  forbearance  by  rea 
son  of  the  worldly  sensation  she  created  as 
she  came  down  the  aisle. 

But  when  the  family  sedately  returning 
from  church  and  discussing  the  sermon  on 
the  way,  as  was  the  custom,  were  almost 
369 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

run  down  by  Archie  in  his  Fiat  with  Molly 
at  his  side,  the  situation  became  acute. 
Guilt  was  written  large  upon  their  shamed 
countenances.  And  no  wonder,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  turn  around  in  time,  and 
though  they  broke  the  speed  limit  in  order 
to  dodge  down  the  nearest  side  street,  the 
family  caught  them  breaking  the  Sabbath 
just  as  they  turned  the  corner. 

This  episode  put  a  new  complexion  on 
the  matter.  The  family  skeleton  was 
threatening  to  stick  his  head  out  of  the 
home.  This  would  never  do.  Even  the 
younger  Bella  looked  grave  as  she  walked 
home  in  silence.  If  it  were  a  flirtation  at 
any  other  house-party  she  might  have  kept 
up  her  worldly  pose  of  detached  amusement. 
But  with  the  best  of  intentions  one  cannot 
shake  off  one's  innate  feelings.  The  sight 
of  her  own  brother  dashing  madly  through 
a  quiet  village  street  with  another  man's 
wife,  and  that  man  also  a  brother,  opened 
up  to  her  vistas  of  possibilities  which  no 
longer  seemed  merely  amusing.  It  is  diffi 
cult  to  regard  one's  family  in  the  comic 
370 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

spirit  when  a  tragedy  is  impending — no  mat 
ter  how  provincial  the  family  may  be.  After 
all,  one's  own  family  is  the  nicest  in  the 
world.  She  became  a  Carroll  once  more — 
so  unsteady  her  pose! 

She  spoke  to  her  husband  about  it  when 
they  reached  their  room.  He  did  not  laugh 
at  her.  "  They'll  get  themselves  talked 
about!"  he  said,  and  he  went  down-stairs 
and  gave  Harry,  his  youngest  brother-in- 
law,  a  cigarette  from  a  feeling  of  family 
unity.  Heretofore  he  had  always  snubbed 
the  youngster. 

Harry,  too,  was  feeling  that  something 
was  wrong.  To  be  sure,  he  "had  lived," 
and  considered  himself  a  devil  with  the 
women,  but  he  had  a  high  ideal  of  con 
ventional  good  form — even  where  the  family 
name  was  not  concerned.  Archie  was  go 
ing  too  far,  and  Archie  was  old  enough  to 
know  better.  A  similar  feeling  of  appre 
hension  ran  through  the  rest  of  the  family. 
The  sense  of  common  peril  had  awakened 
the  clan  spirit  at  last. 

So,    after   luncheon,    where   Archie   and 
371 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

Molly  were  convincingly  silent  (being 
drowsy  after  their  spin  in  the  frosty  air),  the 
family,  as  if  by  tacit  consent,  combined  as  a 
unit  to  keep  the  guilty  pair  apart. 

This  was  quite  unnecessary,  because, 
though  the  two  had  become  friends  for  life, 
they  were  pretty  well  talked  out  and  a  bit 
tired  of  each  other  for  the  time  being.  So 
they  were  rather  relieved  to  find  fresh 
partners  for  the  walk  proposed  and  ar 
ranged  by  Aunt  Bella,  it  being  as  right  to 
walk  as  it  was  wrong  to  motor  on  the  Sab 
bath  day,  though  walking  would  seem  to 
be  more  in  the  nature  of  work,  forbidden 
by  the  fourth  commandment,  than  was 
motoring — which,  however,  was  more  en 
joyable  and  therefore  perhaps  more  heinous. 

Though  the  family  efforts  were  unneces 
sary  they  were  nevertheless  good  for  the 
cause.  The  various  individuals  were  work 
ing  together  to  their  mutual  satisfaction  for 
a  common  family  purpose,  and  showing  one 
another  unsuspected  depths  of  family  feel 
ing  and  not  a  little  tact  and  finesse.  Not 
once  was  the  object  of  their  zealous  efforts 
372 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

named  aloud,  but  whatever  happened  now 
they  could  never  again  be  as  thorougly  un- 
appreciative  of  one  another  as  in  the  old 
dreary  days  of  their  unacquaintance. 

VI 

The  denouement  arrived  with  dinner. 
Molly,  down-stairs  before  any  of  her  guests 
— even  those  who  had  neither  husbands  nor 
wives  to  discuss  important  matters  with 
while  dressing— met  Archie  and  Julia  ar 
riving  from  the  club. 

"We  came  early,"  they  explained,  "in 
order  to  send  off  that  hat-trunk  you  lent 
us  for  the  children's  Christmas  presents." 
They  were  leaving  for  town  immediately 
after  dinner,  and  wished  to  be  rid  of  their 
impedimenta.  Molly  remarked  that  they 
would  find  it,  already  packed,  in  the  studio. 

"Then,"  said  Archie,  "let's  all  three  of 
us  run  down  to  the  station  with  it."  The 
car  was  still  chugging  outside.  '  John  is  a 
good  chauffeur,  but  a  stupid  courier.  Come, 
we  can  get  back  in  three  minutes." 

Molly  agreed,  and  ran  upstairs  for  her 
373 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

wraps.  But  Julia,  enjoying  in  her  daily  life 
more  of  motoring  and  of  Archie  than  did 
Molly,  preferred  a  magazine  by  the  warm 
library  fireplace.  "You  can  manage  it  all 
without  me/'  said  the  lazy  Julia. 

By  the  time  Molly  returned  with  her 
wraps,  Aunt  Bella,  not  being  obliged  to  talk 
while  dressing,  was  leaving  her  room. 

"Hurry,  Archie,"  called  Molly,  hearing 
the  approaching  footsteps. 

But  they  were  too  late.  As  Archie 
hastened  out  of  the  studio,  carrying  the 
borrowed  hat-trunk,  Aunt  Bella  appeared 
before  them  upon  the  landing  of  the  stair. 
She  heard  the  automobile  outside  pant 
ing  impatiently.  She  saw  Molly  dressed  in 
a  long  fur  coat  and  veil.  She  saw  Archie 
beside  her  at  the  door,  his  coat  collar 
turned  up.  In  his  hand  was  the  hat-box — 
on  it  she  saw  Molly's  initials  gleaming  in 
the  hall  light.  She  "saw  it  all  now."  She 
was  just  in  time.  Archie's  other  hand  was 
on  the  door-knob. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked 
wonderfully  achieving  a  light  manner. 

374 


The  discovery  of  the  skeleton  in  the  Carrolls'  closet 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

They  turned,  not  greatly  surprised,  and 
looked  up  at  their  aunt.  "To  the  station/' 
answered  Archie  simply. 

"To  the  station!"  echoed  Aunt  Bella 
aghast.  "And  you?"  she  asked  Molly 
with  suppressed  emotion. 

"I'm  going  with  him."  Surely  even  a 
Carroll  conception  of  Sabbath  observance 
would  permit  this.  There  may  have  been  a 
slight  note  of  defiance  in  her  tone  as  she 
said  "I'm  going  with  him." 

"Why?"  asked  Aunt  Bella.  She  de 
scended  the  few  remaining  stairs.  "Why  ?" 

"  Because  he  asked  me  to."  Molly  looked 
at  Archie.  They  both  felt  an  unaccountable 
current  in  the  atmosphere. 

"  I'll  take  you  along,  too,  Aunt  Bella,"  said 
Archie  lightly,  "if  you'll  get  your  wraps." 

"No,"  said  Aunt  Bella.  They  were  not 
to  elude  her  so  easily — while  upstairs  get 
ting  her  wraps! 

"'Then,  come  on,  Molly.  There's  no 
time  to  lose." 

"No,"  repeated  Aunt  Bella.  "Molly 
will  remain  with  me,  I  think."  She  now 
375 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

stepped  between  them.  "Here  come  the 
others/'  she  whispered,  glancing  again  at 
Molly's  baggage,  hoping  that  Archie  would 
hide  it.  Her  proud  old  Carroll  bosom  was 
heaving. 

"I  still  think  we  can  make  it,"  said 
Archie,  looking  at  his  watch.  He  did  not 
hide  the  little  trunk. 

"No,"  said  Aunt  Bella,  almost  inaudi- 
bly  this  time.  "No,  Archie,"  and  looked 
from  one  to  the  other.  There  was  an  awk 
ward  pause.  They  stood  looking  at  one 
another  wondering.  Some  of  the  family 
had  come  and  more  were  arriving  upon  the 
landing  of  the  stairs — an  excellent  point  of 
view  for  the  tableau:  Archie  and  Molly  in 
furs,  looking  guilty;  Aunt  Bella  before  them 
with  her  back  against  the  door  looking  de 
termined;  the  automobile  outside  panting 
eloquently.  They  also  "saw  it  all  now," 
including  the  large  initials. 

"What  did  I  tell  you!"  gasped  Sophia  in 
her  husband's  ear.  His  arm  went  around  her. 

"Great  Scott!     Just  in  time!"  whispered 
the  architect  to  the  younger  Bella. 
376 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Where  is  Herbert?"  gasped  the  fright 
ened  fiancee. 

"Here  comes  your  father,"  pleaded  Aunt 
Bella. 

At  this  point  Archie's  wife,  the  lazy  Julia, 
strolled  out  from  the  library  with  a  book  in 
her  hand,  saying  in  her  indolent  manner, 
"Oh,  Archie,  dear,  we  forgot  to  put  in  this 
cunning  little  fat  Bible  Aunt  Bella  gave 
little  Archie."  She  stopped  abruptly,  see 
ing  the  silent  assembled  family  before  her. 
"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  she  asked 
handing  Archie  the  Bible. 

"Nothing,"  said  Archie  in  the  true  Car 
roll  manner,  as  opening  Molly's  hat-trunk 
he  disclosed  to  the  family  gaze  their  various 
appropriate  presents  to  his  beloved  children. 

"Nothing,"  said  Aunt  Bella,  sinking  into 
a  chair  and  fanning  rapidly. 

"Nothing,"  said  Molly,  becoming  a  Car 
roll  at  last,  but  hiding  her  face  all  the  same 
to  hide  her  irresistible  laughter. 

"Nothing,"  "Nothing,"  "Nothing,"  ech 
oed  all  the  Carrolls  and  Carrolls-in-law. 

"  Dinner  is  served,"  said  an  entering  maid. 
377 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

"Aunt  Bella,"  said  Archie  with  an  odd 
look  on  his  face  as  he  offered  her  his  arm, 
"you  were  quite  right,  you  see.  There 
would  not  have  been  time  to  run  to  the 
station  and  back/' 

"That's  just  what  we  wanted  to  tell  you," 
said  the  other  Carrolls,  and  each  nodded  and 
cast  triumphant  glances  at  all  the  rest — ex 
cept  their  spouses — as  if  to  say,  "How  dare 
you  suspect  anything  else!"  Then,  laugh 
ing  nervously,  they  all  went  out  to  dinner. 

"  But  what  was  the  joke  ? — what  was  the 
joke?"  quavered  the  old  gentleman,  who 
had  seen  but  little  and  heard  less.  "I've 
been  watching  you  two  with  your  heads  to 
gether.  What  was  it?" 

Archie  and  Molly  smiled  at  each  other — 
but  it  no  longer  made  even  Aunt  Bella 
quake. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Molly.  "Archie  and 
I  have  concluded  that  this  is  a  pretty-well- 
united  family  after  all." 

"Humph,"  said  the  venerable  head  of  the 
house,  with  the  racial  wisdom  shown  only 
by  the  very  old  or  the  very  young,  "  I  could 
378 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

have  told  you  that.     But  what  was  he  pack 
ing  up  in  that  box,  eh  ? " 

"Oh,    that,"    she   whispered,   "was   the 
family  skeleton." 


379 


THIRD  PART 
THEIR  SHARE  OF  THE  WORLD 


VIII 
THEIR  MILLIONAIRE  TENANT 

SCENES:    The  Carrolls'  celebrated  country  place  and  the 
Parkers'  expensive  boarding-house. 

(THE  ACQUISITIVE  SENSE  COLLIDES  WITH  THE  /ESTHETIC 
SENSE — TO  THE  AMAZEMENT  OF  BOTH  WORTHY  CIVIL- 

IZERS.  N.B.:  THE  CARROLLS  FORMERLY  OWNED  THEIR 
HOME — NOW  WE  SEE  THE  HOME  BEGINNING  TO  OWN  THE 
CARROLLS.) 

"Birr  think  of  strangers  living  in  our 
house!  Using  our  pretty  things,  sleeping  in 
our  beds — why,  the  very  thought  of  it  is 
dreadful!"  Mrs.  Carroll  shuddered  and 
looked  fondly  about  the  beloved  studio  and 
out  through  the  vista  of  soft-toned  rooms, 
as  mellow  and  sweet  as  if  the  house  had 
found  itself  a  hundred  years  ago. 

"  But,  Molly,  it's  only  for  a  week,"  urged 
her  husband,  "and  we  want  to  get  away 
anyhow.  I  must  go  and  paint  those  sand- 
dunes  before  the  color  changes.  Besides, 
we  always  hate  this  place  when  the  horse 
383 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

show  is  on  at  the  country  club.  It's  such  a 
bore — none  of  the  fun  and  all  of  the  bother 
and  expense  of  a  houseful  of  guests." 
"  But  we  needn't  have  guests/5 
"Oh,  we  always  say  we  won't  have  any 
people  this  time,  but  we  always  do.  They 
like  it  and  we  like  it,  but  it  always  knocks  out 
my  work.  Busy  men  from  town  love  to 
loll  on  the  terrace  and  look  at  the  view  and 
tell  me  I  don't  know  what  hard  work  means, 
because  I'm  fetching  'em  drinks  at  eleven 


A.  M." 


"Couldn't  we  close  the  house  up,  Fred, 
without  renting  it?"  she  asked.  To  her 
the  home  was  a  very  personal  matter — be 
cause  she  was  a  woman.  To  the  man,  it 
was  chiefly  a  beautiful  thing  he  had  created 
— because  he  was  an  artist.  Now  he  was 
interested  in  creating  other  beautiful  things. 

"Then  where  are  we  going  to  find  the 
money  for  going  away  ?"  he  asked.  "You 
know  how  hard  up  we  are.  The  house 
has  put  us  in  this  hole;  the  house  has  got 
to  pull  us  out."  The  man  has,  it  seems,  to 
earn  money  for  his  beautiful  creations;  the 
384 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

woman  has  to  take  care  of  them.  The  man 
won  out  in  this  case.  For  men  are  the  natu 
ral  leaders,  as  has  been  stated  with  the  cor 
roborative  authority  of  many  of  them. 

Now,  if  they  had  only  referred  the  matter 
to  an  agent  they  would  have  saved  them 
selves  a  lot  of  annoyance  and  have  secured  a 
great  deal  better  rental.  But  the  Carrolls 
were  new  at  the  business  of  letting  houses 
and,  moreover,  they  did  not  like  the  idea  of 
putting  their  house  in  the  market  publicly. 
It  seemed  rather  vulgar;  Mrs.  Carroll  felt 
as  if  they  were  disgraced  enough  as  it  was. 
"Nonsense,"  said  Fred,  "I  don't  mind 
people's  knowing  that  we're  hard  up.  It 
isn't  as  if  we  were  in  business;  there  the 
measure  of  success  is  the  amount  of  money 
you  make;  in  my  trade — some  of  the  best 
are  the  least  well  off."  Fred  always  re 
minded  himself  of  this  when  hard  up.  It 
seemed  to  help  in  every  way,  except  in  pay 
ing  bills. 

All  the  same,  Carroll  took  pains  to  men 
tion  at  the  club,  "We  are  going  away,  any 
how — my  wife  hates  the  turmoil  and  fatigue 
385 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

of  horse-show  week — so  if  you  hear  of  any 
nice  people  tell  them  that  you  know  of  a 
nice  house  with  sixteen  rooms  and  plenty  of 
baths." 

And  Mrs.  Carroll  took  pains  to  tell  callers 
over  her  pretty  tea-table,  "We  are  going 
away,  anyhow — Fred  hates  the  turmoil  and 
fatigue  of  horse-show  week — so  if  you  hear 
of  any  nice  people  tell  them  that  you  know  of 
a  nice  house  with  sixteen  rooms  and  plenty 
of  baths." 

Both  of  these  "well-bred"  young  hu 
mans,  though  of  somewhat  different  stock, 
had  been  admirably  educated  to  despise  the 
ladder  by  which  their  more  or  less  distin 
guished  families  had  climbed  to  the  rarified 
air  of  refinement — vulgar  money-getting. 
Money-having  is  all  right.  But  that  is  dif 
ferent.  It  gives  you  the  power  to  make 
others  labor  for  you,  the  position  to  look 
down,  more  or  less  sympathetically,  upon 
those  who  do  it.  This  ennobles  you — pro 
vided  you  do  not  horde  your  money,  but 
spend  it  beautifully  and  give  back  some  of 
386 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

it  generously  to  the  poor,  thus  "  keeping 
money  in  circulation"  and  offering  an  ex 
ample  of  noblesse  oblige.  .  .  >  Indeed,  it 
is  to  be  feared  that  even  this  well-mated 
pair,  though  they  could  not  see  it  now, 
would  eventually  find  themselves  handi 
capped  by  a  more  important  alliance  than 
their  own;  namely,  the  amazing  marriage 
of  Christian  and  Privilege  Ideals.  Not  a 
"soul-mating,"  alas!  nor  blessed,  success 
fully,  by  any  church  worthy  of  the  name  of 
spiritual  religion,  since  Christ  drove  the 
money-changers  out  of  the  temple;  merely 
a  common-law  marriage,  though  the  church 
has  done  its  best  to  prevent  the  inevitable 
scandal,  for  the  sake  of  the  offspring  of 
these  outwardly  smiling  but  inwardly  hos 
tile  parents.  We  call  the  child  Culture  and 
have  reared  it  respectably,  despite  its  origin. 
He  (or  is  it  a  she  ?)  does  interesting  parlor 
tricks,  gives  us  diverting  recitations  while 
Authority  stands  by  to  prompt  him.  When 
the  governesses  are  out,  however,  his  comic 
capers  are  more  amusing,  for  he  is  an  en 
gaging  little  fellow,  even  though  he  is  a 
387 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

bastard  in  the  unpleasant  eyes  of  Truth. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  story  of  his  illegitimate 
parentage  can  be  kept  from  him,  now  that 
he  has  reached  the  awkward  age  and  per 
sists  in  asking  embarrassing  questions.  He 
ought  to  be  spanked  and  sent  back  to  the 
nursery. 


They  thought  it  would  be  a  woman,  but 
it  proved  to  be  a  man,  a  brisk  young  man 
with  eye-glasses  and  an  incisive  manner. 
He  introduced  himself  as  secretary  to  Mr. 
Sterling,  and  he  said  he  should  like  to  see 
the  house. 

They  had  understood  vaguely  that  pro 
spective  tenants  liked  to  look  at  houses  be 
fore  agreeing  to  take  them — even  when  they 
were  unusually  charming  houses  with  six 
teen  rooms  and  plenty  of  baths.  They 
themselves  had  always  looked  at  houses  be 
fore  taking  them  in  the  old  dreary  days  of 
renting;  but  they  never  before  appreciated 
how  it  felt  to  have  a  business-like  eye  fasten 
upon  their  intimate  possessions  and  ap- 
388 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

praise  their  worth.  They  felt  that  the 
young  man  was  inwardly  scowling  at  every 
thing  in  sight  and  they  felt  almost  in 
dignant — the  more  so  because  he  seemed 
to  be  urbanely  endeavoring  to  conceal  his 
contempt  under  an  indulgent  appreciation. 
As  if  such  as  he  could  appreciate  their 
things ! 

"The  ceilings  are  rather  low,  are  they 
not?"  asked  the  brisk  young  man  with  a 
gracious  smile. 

"Yes,  very  low,"  answered  Carroll,  also 
smiling  as  he  recalled  the  fight  with  the 
architect  to  secure  those  low  ceilings, 
"should  you  like  to  look  at  the  bedrooms  ?" 
The  ceilings  were  still  lower  upstairs. 
("Don't  you  go  up,"  he  whispered  apart  to 
his  wife,  "it's  bad  enough  for  me  to  have  to 
do  this.") 

But  though  Mrs.  Carroll's  pretty  cheeks 
were  flushed  and  she  felt  inclined  to  order 
the  intruder  out  of  the  house,  she  was  afraid 
that  Fred  might  forget  to  show  off  the  linen 
closet,  her  particular  pride,  so  she  tagged 
along  behind,  walking  on  tiptoe. 
389 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

Carroll,  feeling  like  a  guide  at  the  Louvre, 
was  saying,  "This  is  the  day-nursery." 

"I  see/'  said  the  young  man. 

"This  is  the  night-nursery,"  said  Carroll. 

"I  see,"  said  the  young  man. 

"And  here  is  the  linen  closet,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Carroll. 

"Ah,  a  fine,  large  one,"  said  the  young 
man.  Even  though  he  was  a  bachelor  he 
ought  to  have  been  interested  in  such  things 
as  nurseries  and  linen  closets,  but  to  tell  the 
truth  he  too  was  embarrassed.  This  was 
an  unaccustomed  job  for  Mr.  Sterling's  sec 
retary — though,  to  be  sure,  in  that  confi 
dential  capacity  he  had  been  known  (by 
himself  and  his  employer)  to  put  through 
certain  stranger  jobs  than  this! 

Well,  he  went  through  all  the  other  rooms, 
but  instead  of  admiring  her  dainty  curtains, 
Mrs.  Carroll  felt  sure  that  he  was  making 
mental  notes  of  the  place  where  the  children 
had  set  the  rug  on  fire  and  of  the  evident 
fact  that  her  dressing-table  was,  after  all, 
pretty  small. 

The  ordeal  was  soon  over  and  the  young 
39° 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

man  was  down-stairs  again  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand  ready  to  go. 

"And — what  did  you  say  the  rent  was  ?" 
he  was  asking.  At  this  point  Mrs.  Carroll 
fled  abruptly. 

Her  husband  cleared  his  throat  and  said, 
"Oh,  I  don't  know — two  hundred  dollars 
ought  to  be  enough,  I  suppose,"  feeling  sure 
that  the  business-like  young  man  would 
think  it  too  much.  For  it  was  more  than 
enough  to  pay  for  the  sketching  trip. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  other  houses  which 
hadn't  sixteen  rooms  and  plenty  of  baths 
were  renting  for  considerably  higher  prices. 
Carroll  had  failed  to  find  this  out,  but  the 
young  man  had  not. 

"Ah,  I  see,"  he  said.  "Well,  I'll  tele 
graph  you  Mr.  Sterling's  decision  in  the 
morning." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Carroll,  "may  I  ask 
what  Mr.  Sterling  it  is?" 

"Charles  F.  Sterling,"  said  the  other,  and 
paused  to  watch  the  effect. 

But  there  was  no  effect;  because  Mr. 
Charles  F.  Sterling,  though  a  very  great 
391 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

millionaire,  was  a  very  recent  one — so  re 
cent  that  he  had  not  yet  begun  gathering 
pictures. 

"Ah  indeed!"  said  the  master  of  the 
house,  feeling  sympathetically  that  some 
thing,  of  the  sort  was  expected. 


II 

The  Carrolls  had  reached  that  stage  of 
their  married  career  when  wedding  gifts 
have  become  old  and  sparse.  Accordingly 
they  overdrew  their  account  at  the  bank  and 
invested  some  of  the  prospective  two  hun 
dred  dollars  in  a  new  set  of  china — the  blue 
onion  pattern,  cheap  but  a  favorite  of  theirs. 
"We  need  a  new  set  anyway,"  said  Carroll. 
"The  maids  and  the  children  between  them 
have  nearly  cleaned  us  out." 

"And  now  they  can't  complain  that  they 
haven't  enough  dishes,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll 
with  housewifely  pride.  "And  we'll  turn  the 
key  on  the  dining-room  china  closet  so  they 
can't  get  at  great-grandmother  Carter's 
Spode." 

392 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"Why  not  hide  them  in  the  attic?"  sug 
gested  Fred. 

"Because  then  they  couldn't  see  them!" 
said  Molly,  the  shameless  snob. 

They  were  rather  short  also  on  dining- 
room  chairs,  since  the  children  had  taken  to 
making  automobiles  out  of  them. 

"This  is  a  good  excuse  to  get  those  in 
the  window  of  the  little  shop  in  Fourth 
Avenue/'  urged  Fred  boldly. 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  spare  the  money  ? " 
asked  his  frugal  wife — but  her  eyes  bright 
ened. 

"Our  trip  to  the  shore  can't  possibly  cost 
two  hundred  dollars,"  returned  the  natural 
leader. 

They  got  the  chairs,  and  while  making 
the  purchase  they  happened  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  pair  of  the  most  charmingly  tarnished 
candlesticks,  a  remarkable  green  which 
would  tone  in  beautifully  with  the  living 
room.  To  be  sure,  they  already  had  dozens 
of  candlesticks  but  none  like  these.  They 
felt  that  they  really  needed  them,  especially 
as  the  antique  dealer  said  that  another  cus 
393 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

tomer  was  coming  back  for  them  next 
Wednesday. 

"Now,  unpractical  people/'  Fred  told 
his  wife  as  they  marched  off  with  the  can 
dlesticks  under  Fred's  arms,  "would  have 
been  lured  into  buying  that  piece  of  jade, 
but  7  wasn't!" 

Molly  felt  so  pleased  with  his  self-restraint 
that  at  the  next  old  friend's  shop  they  passed 
she  purchased  a  dozen  heavy  Colonial  cut- 
glass  goblets.  "The  Sterlings  will  need 
more  goblets  than  we  have  anyway,"  she 
said  apologetically. 

"Of  course  they  will,"  echoed  Fred  de 
fiantly.  "We  mustn't  be  skimpy.  We  know 
ourselves  what  it  is  to  have  a  skimpy  land 
lord." 

As  the  momentous  day  approached  there 
was  a  busy  time  in  the  Carroll  house. 
Molly  cut  her  engagement  to  pour  tea  at 
the  club  house  and  Fred  had  to  stop  work, 
for  even  the  studio,  the  one  untidy  spot  in 
the  otherwise  immaculate  house,  was  being 
scrubbed  and  waxed  and  polished  until  it 
shone.  Molly's  regular  staff  was  augmented 

394 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

by  two  extra  cleaning-women — two  hun 
dred  dollars  would  be  more  than  ample  to 
pay  for  this — and  certain  electric-light  fixt 
ures  were  repaired  which  had  been  allowed 
to  remain  out  of  order  for  months;  perhaps 
in  order  to  keep  down  the  consumption  of 
electricity. 

"This  is  a  great  thing  for  the  Carroll  fam 
ily/'  said  Fred;  "we  not  only  get  a  profitable 
sketching  trip  out  of  the  Sterlings  but  they 
are  putting  our  house  in  such  good  shape  for 
us.  Nice  Sterlings;  pretty  plutocrats/' 

"I  am  going  to  have  everything  ready 
well  in  advance,"  said  Molly,  surveying  her 
work  with  considerable  satisfaction,  "and 
then  disappear  before  they  arrive.  I  am 
reconciled  to  their  coming,  because  it  means 
so  much  for  you,  dear — if  I  only  don't  have 
to  see  them.  I  hate  them." 

"And  yet  we  really  oughtn't  to  hate 
them,"  mused  Fred,  who  was  quite  broad- 
minded;  "they're  giving  us  a  chance  to  go 
and  paint  sand-dunes." 

"But  they  are  going  to  use  our  things!" 
Molly  reminded  him. 
395 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"We  invited  them  to  do  so,"  returned 
Fred  judicially;  so  they  aren't  altogether 
to  blame." 

"I  hate  them  all  the  same,"  said  Molly 
obstinately. 

"Molly,"  whispered  Fred,  "I  do,  too!" 
And  for  this  unchristian  sentiment  Molly 
threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed 
him. 

Ill 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  the  feminine 
members  of  the  Sterling  family,  their  days 
not  being  occupied  in  Wall  Street,  took  it 
into  their  heads  that  it  would  be  a  good 
idea  to  run  out  in  the  car  in  the  morning 
instead  of  waiting  for  the  afternoon  train, 
which  would  bring  the  old  man  and  the 
other  heavy  luggage.  They  could  lunch  at 
the  club  and  spend  the  afternoon  on  the 
links. 

Mrs.  Carroll,  with  an  apron  on  and  quite 

unconscious  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy, 

was    caressingly    dusting    certain  precious 

possessions   never   entrusted   to   the   unap- 

396 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

preciative  touch  of  the  servants.  There 
was,  for  instance,  a  mediaeval  salt-holder 
of  marble,  which  they  had  brought  back 
from  Italy,  an  odd  thing  with  interesting 
relief  work  worn  almost  smooth  by  count 
less  generations  of  handling.  They  kept 
it  on  a  table  in  the  living-room,  as  a  com 
bination  paper-weight  and  ash-holder,  be 
cause  the  vague  carving  was  very  beautiful 
and  shadowy  with  the  reading-lamp  shining 
down  upon  it.  There  was  also  a  bit  of 
Venetian  mosaic  work  which,  after  holding 
together  for  centuries  in  Italy,  was  rinding 
an  American  Boynton  furnace  too  much 
for  it.  These  and  other  sacred  idols  she 
was  handling  with  the  deftness  and  devo 
tion  displayed  in  bathing  her  babies.  She 
was  singing  the  same  cooing  song  she  sung 
to  them. 

Hearing  an  automobile  snorting  up  the 
drive,  she  ran,  still  in  her  apron,  to  the  door, 
expecting  to  see  her  brother,  who  often 
came  out  to  play  tennis,  and  lunched  with 
them  when  he  did  so.  Her  smile  of 
sisterly  welcome  changed  to  a  look  of  con- 

397 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

sternation  when  she  beheld  three  strange 
women  in  the  tonneau  of  a  new  and  shining 
car. 

"Will  you  ask  Mrs.  Carroll  if  it  would  be 
convenient  to  let  Mrs.  Sterling  leave  some 
hand-baggage  here  until  this  afternoon?" 
asked  the  eldest  of  the  three  ladies.  The 
ladies  also  looked  new  and  shining. 

"They  think  that  I  am  a  maid/'  said  Mrs. 
Carroll  to  herself  with  an  inward  smile. 
"Mrs.  Carroll  is  not  at  home,"  she  said, 
feeling  herself  blush;  "but  you  may,  of 
course,  leave  your  things." 

They  began  handing  them  to  her.  This 
made  her  blush  still  more  but  she  took  them, 
smiling,  but  furious. 

"Mamma,"  said  one  of  the  girls,  "if 
they've  gone  already,  let's  get  out  and  see 
what  the  house  is  like." 

Mrs.  Carroll  put  down  the  bags.  "I 
believe  Mrs.  Carroll  was  not  expecting  you 
quite  so  early,"  she  said,  "the  house  is 
hardly  ready." 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  matter,"  said  Mrs. 
Sterling  graciously,  "we'll  understand,"  and 
393 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

by  this  time  they  were  descending,  the  man 
in  front  with  the  chauffeur,  who  afterward 
proved  to  be  their  steward,  having  jumped 
out  to  help  them. 

" Isn't  it  a  cunning  little  house!"  said  one 
of  the  daughters,  a  great  strapping  girl,  as 
she  brushed  past  the  small  owner  of  the 
little  house,  who  didn't  find  it  little  to  take 
care  of.  (Sixteen  rooms  and  plenty  of 
baths.) 

"Just  like  some  of  those  lodges  we  saw 
in  England,"  replied  the  other,  not  quite  so 
strapping,  girl.  "See,  they  have  vines 
and  lattice  windows  and  everything.  Oh, 
there's  a  sun-dial,  too.  I  want  to  look  at 
the  sun-dial."  So  she,  at  least,  ran  out  again. 

The  others,  however,  had  gone  in  and 
there  was  nothing  for  Molly  to  do  but  to 
follow  meekly  behind. 

"It's  real  cosey,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling,  look 
ing  about  with  a  kindly  expression,  while 
Molly  shuddered  impotently.  She  particu 
larly  loathed  the  word  "cosey"  even  with 
out  the  "real,"  and  even  when  not  applied 
to  her  home. 

399 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Could  we  take  a  look  upstairs  ?"  asked 
the  daughter. 

"Mrs.  Carroll  would  much  prefer  your 
waiting  until  she  is  ready  to  receive  you," 
said  Mrs.  Carroll  with  that  quiet  dignity 
which  made  the  tradesmen  quake. 

But  the  Sterlings  did  not  quake;  they  had 
long  since  ceased  to  be  afraid  of  servants, 
even  haughty  ones.  "Oh,  we  won't  mind 
its  being  tossed  up,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling. 

"But  Mrs.  Carroll  will,"  said  that  lady 
decisively. 

Mrs.  Sterling  knew  a  language  which  ap 
pealed  to  all  servants,  even  the  most  su 
perior.  "Mrs.  Carroll  needn't  know  any 
thing  about  it,"  she  said,  and,  placing  a  coin 
on  the  newel-post  under  Molly's  pretty  chin, 
she  marched  serenely  up  the  stairs,  com 
menting  on  the  pictures  on  the  way. 

For  a  moment  Molly  was  too  much  as 
tonished  to  speak,  then  turning  to  the  man 
servant,  who  was  carrying  in  the  wraps, 
"Remove  that!"  she  commanded  haugh 
tily,  pointing  to  the  twenty-five  cent  piece 
on  the  newel-post  as  if  it  were  a  spider. 
400 


"Remove  that,"  she  commanded  haughtily 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Sure!"  said  the  man,  and  he  removed 
it  effectively.  The  grave  respect  of  man 
ner  which  he  had  shown  toward  his  mis 
tress  had  disappeared  now  that  she  had 
gone  upstairs,  and  he  ogled  Molly  with 
smiling  impudence.  Her  indignation  gave 
way  to  something  like  fright.  She  looked 
out  into  the  dining-room  lined  with  pictures 
of  ancestors — but  they  couldn't  have  helped 
her  even  if  they  had  been  the  originals  in 
stead  of  merely  copies  Fred  had  made  of 
family  portraits.  She  glanced  up  the  stairs 
— but  she  couldn't  appeal  to  those  people. 
So  in  a  panic  she  turned  and  bolted  out  of 
her  own  house. 

Half  way  down  the  drive  siie  met  Fred  re 
turning  from  the  village.  He  was  whistling 
carelessly.  "I've  ordered  three  dozen  coat- 
hangers  for  the  plutocracy,"  he  began. 

"They've  come!"  she  cried, wild-eyed  and 
panting.  "They're  in  our  house — they're 
upstairs!"  You  might  have  thought  that 
she  referred  to  the  Indians  that  had  harassed 
some  of  those  oft-mentioned  ancestors  of 
whom  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carroll  were  so 
401 


THE    MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

justly  proud.  For  had  not  Molly's  gentle- 
born  forebears  killed  off  many  of  the  heathen 
savages  whom  Fred's  stern  Puritan  pro 
genitors  had  failed  to  convert  ?  Besides, 
both  sides  of  the  house  had  played  a  dis 
tinguished  part  in  cheating  and  maltreating 
the  lingering  remnant,  in  accordance  with 
the  principles  practised  by  Christian  na 
tions  upon  unchristian  barbarians  standing 
(upon  their  own  land)  in  the  path  of  true 
progress.  Well,  neither  squad  of  worthy 
ancestry  was  here  to  guard  the  house  of 
Carroll  against  this  sudden  raid  of  modern 
barbarians. 

"So  they  took  you  unawares,  eh?" 
laughed  Fred.  "Well,  what  of  it?"  Where 
are  you  going  ? " 

"I'm  going  away — anywhere!  I'll  never 
come  back." 

"If  that's  the  case,"  said  Fred,  "I'd  take 
off  my  apron  and  put  on  a  hat,  if  I  were 
you." 

"My  hat's  up  there!  They  are  there! 
And  there's  a  button  off  my  coat,  too. 
They'll  see  it!  They  didn't  give  me  time  to 
402 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

sew  it  on."  And  she  told  him  the  whole 
story,  but  as  Fred  did  not  seem  to  take  it 
very  tragically  she  also  was  able  to  laugh 
by  the  time  she  had  finished. 

"  We'll  live  it  down  in  time/'  he  said. 
"Suppose  you  give  me  that  apron  and  I'll 
sneak  around  and  give  it  to  Laura.  I'll  tell 
her  to  get  our  things  and  bring  them  down 
to  the  Parkers'.  We'll  have  to  wait  there 
till  train  time." 

The  Parkers  kept  a  very  respectable  and 
rather  expensive  boarding-house  across  the 
meadow  from  the  Carrolls.  "Luckily  our 
trunk  has  gone  on  ahead."  The  children, 
it  may  be  added,  had  been  shipped  with  the 
nurse  to  their  grandmother's  the  day  before. 

A  few  minutes  later  Carroll  joined  his 
wife  on  the  Parker  porch.  She  was  gazing 
nervously  across  the  meadow  at  her  beloved, 
now  desecrated  home.  "Never  mind,"  said 
Fred  comfortingly;  "think  of  the  wonder 
ful  color  on  those  dunes!  Think  of  the  fine 
walks  and  drives  we'll  have  in  the  after 
noons!" 

"Let's  take  the  first  train,"  said  Molly. 
403 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"I  want  to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  house  at 
once.  It's  awful!" 

"So  do  I,"  said  Fred;  "but  we  haven't 
got  our  money  yet,  and,  you  know,  we've 
overdrawn  our  account  at  the  bank!" 

"Here  comes  Laura  with  our  things," 
announced  Molly,  jumping  up  as  the  fat 
figure  of  the  ancient  negress  waddled  into 
view.  "Perhaps  they've  sent  the  check  by 
Laura.  We  always  paid  our  rent  in  ad 


vance." 


Laura  had  no  check,  but  she  had  a  mes 
sage  from  the  steward.  He  wanted  to  know 
how  the  kitchen  range  worked.  Laura,  not 
understanding  that  kind,  said  she  would  ask 
her  mistress  to  come  and  show  him.  The 
Carrolls'  cook  had  been  sent  away  imme 
diately  after  breakfast  for  a  week's  vacation 
(at  full  pay). 

"Indeed,  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort!"  de 
clared  Mrs.  Carroll  with  a  glance  at  her 
husband. 

"Let  him  know  it's  a   French  range," 
said  Carroll  with  a  humorous  twinkle,  "the 
kind  all  the  best  chefs  use." 
404 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"And  when  their  cook  arrives/'  put  in 
Mrs.  Carroll,  relenting,  "if  he  doesn't  un 
derstand  it,  tell  him  where  he  can  find  our 
cook." 

"Who  is  Irish/'  remarked  Fred  paren 
thetically. 

"By  the  way,  Laura,"  asked  Mrs.  Car 
roll,  hesitatingly,  "I  hope — do  the  ladies 
seem  to  like  the  house?" 

"'Deed,  m'm,  I  ain't  heard  dem  say, 
but  when  dey  looked  in  de  studio  dey  begun 
laughin'  fit  to  kill  when  dey  looked  at  de 
picture  Mr.  Fred  made  of  Miss  Molly." 

"Laughed,  did  they?"  snorted  Fred, 
sitting  up;  "what  do  they  know  about  it!" 

"'Deed,  I  don't  know,  suh,"  said  the 
darky  departing.  "All  I  know  is  dat  dey 
kept  on  gigglin'.  '  Mamma's  always  mak- 
in'  brakes/  said  one  of  de  young  ladies  to 
de  other.  Den  dey  goes  off  in  de  automo 
bile.  I  don't  know  what  dey  meant." 

Molly  did.  She  looked  at  her  husband. 
He  broke  out  laughing;  she  blushed  and  bit 
her  lip. 

In  a  little  while  Laura  came  back  again. 
405 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

She  reported  that  the  other  servants  had  now 
arrived,  a  second  man  and  three  maids,  and 
that  the  steward  wanted  to  know  if  Mrs. 
Carroll  would  kindly  give  him  the  key  to 
the  dining-room  china-closet,  so  that  he 
could  get  at  the  rest  of  the  dishes. 

"  Didn't  you  show  him  the  whole  set  of 
new  ones  in  addition  to  the  old  ones  in  the 
butler's  pantry?"  asked  Mrs.  Carroll. 

Laura  said  that  she  had  done  so,  but  they 
were  not  good  enough  for  the  Sterlings. 
The  servants  were  to  use  the  onion  pattern. 

Fred  laughed  again,  indulgently.  "That's 
not  a  bad  pattern,  and  that  particular  set 
has  a  good  blue — I  picked  it  out  myself. 
But  'good  enough'  to  the  Sterlings  means 
only  one  thing — expensive  enough.  The 
poor,  stupid  slaves." 

"We  can't  let  them  have  the  Spode!" 
cried  Molly,  aghast,  looking  at  her  husband 
for  support.  She  was  not  interested  at 
present  in  the  theory  of  "Conspicuous 
Waste"  or  "Honorific  Display." 

"Laura,"   said   Fred,   "those  dishes  be 
longed  to  a  great-grandmother,  and— 
406 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Yessuh,  I  told  him  so,  suh;  but  he  says 
he  don't  mind  dere  being  ole  fashioned— 
it's  only  for  a  week." 

Fred  looked  at  Molly  until  even  she 
laughed  a  little — just  to  please  her  hus 
band.  But  the  morning's  experiences  had 
put  her  out  of  humor,  women  being  so 
personal. 

"And  he  says,"  continued  Laura,  "he 
will  replace  all  dey  breaks." 

"A  dozen  Mr.  Sterlings  could  not  replace 
those  plates,"  broke  out  Molly  indignantly. 

"What'll  I  tell  him,  m'm?" 

"Oh,  let  him  have  the  keys,"  flung  out 
Fred,  for  he  saw  how  the  distasteful  situa 
tion  was  getting  on  Molly's  nerves,  and 
wanted  to  end  it.  "Let  'em  have  every 
thing.  What's  the  use  of  fighting  the  Money 
Power." 

"And  then  Laura,  please  go  home,"  put 
in  Mrs.  Carroll,  resigning  her  sacred  keys. 
"I  don't  want  you  to  stay  there  any  longer." 

Laura  looked  at  the  ground.     "I  prom 
ised  to  stay  and  help  'em  clean  up.     He  says 
Mrs.  Sterling's  a  most  particular  lady." 
407 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Clean  up  ?  Why,  you've  been  cleaning 
up  for  three  days!"  cried  Molly,  outraged  in 
her  housewifely  pride;  "didn't  you  tell  him 
that  ? "  Her  lip  began  to  tremble. 

"  Well,  no,  m'm,  he  offered  me  two  dollars 
to  stay  and — I  need  the  money."  Laura 
showed  her  white  teeth  in  a  broad  grin. 
"But  I  told  him,"  she  made  haste  to  add, 
wagging  her  head  with  the  true  negro  re 
tainer's  loyalty,  "that  you  was  just  as  fine 
a  lady  and  just  as  particular  as  his  missus, 
even  if  you  does  sleep  in  a  white-enamel 
bed." 

"Now  that  ought  to  encourage  you!" 
laughed  Fred. 

Molly  looked  at  Laura.  "What's  this 
about  the  beds!"  she  asked. 

"Nothin',  only  he  says  that  at  all  de  Ster 
lings'  houses  even  de  help  has  better  beds 
den  yourn.  Dey  are  movin'  yourn  up  to 
de  servants'  flo'  for  de  steward  to  sleep  in, 
an'  de  ole-fashioned  four-poster  is  goin'  to 
be  for  de  missus." 

"Laura,"  said  Mr.  Carroll  no  longer  joc 
ular,  "tell  that  person,  Mrs.  Carroll's  bed 
408 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

is  not  to  be  used  by  any  of  Mr.  Sterling's 
servants — no  matter  how  many  he  has!" 

"Yessuh,"  said  Laura  chuckling.  She 
always  loved  Mr.  Fred  when  he  "got  mad." 
"An'  don't  you  worry,  Miss  Molly,  you're 
my  people,  an'  I  ain't  agoin'  to  let  dose 
new  people  hurt  nothin'  o'  yourn,"  she 
added  as  she  took  her  deliberate  departure. 

Somehow,  Molly  derived  a  great  deal  of 
solace  from  this.  Along  with  the  indignity 
of  the  situation,  she  felt  that,  at  least,  she 
had  one  thing  that  millions  could  not  buy, 
and  that  was  personal  affection  and  loyalty 
from  her  servants. 

In  a  little  while  Laura  was  back  again. 

"Now,  what  is  it!"  thought  Mrs.  Carroll. 

"De  steward,  he's  sot  de  second  man  to 
paintin'  de  scratched  places  de  childern 
made  on  yore  bed,  m'm.  Mrs.  Sterling's  a 
most  particular  lady,  he  says." 

Molly  made  no  comment  but  to  drum 
on  the  floor  with  her  foot. 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  asked  Fred  sharply. 
The  gossippy  servant  seemed  to  be  distress 
ing  her  mistress  unnecessarily. 
409 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Nothing  only  I  thought  I'd  better  tell 
you  he's  usin'  yore  paints,  suh." 

"What!"  cried  Fred  springing  out  of  his 
chair. 

"  He  says  he'll  only  use  a  few  cents'  worth 
and  he'll  pay  double  if  you  object.  Dem's 
his  very  words." 

"Object!"  shouted  Fred.  "I  don't  allow 
anybody  to  monkey  around  in  my  studio, 
not  even  Mrs.  Carroll.  You  ought  to  have 
told  him  that,  Laura."  It  appears  that 
men,  too,  at  times,  are  "so  personal." 

"  But  he  ain't  doin'  it  in  de  studio.     Dey 

turned  yore  studio  into  a  servants9  dining- 

t  j> 
room! 

This  lack  of  art  feeling  caused  Frederic 
Carroll,  the  promising  young  painter,  to 
turn  resolutely  toward  his  beloved,  now 
desecrated,  home  of  art — but  he  was  re 
strained  by  his  wife.  "Don't  go  near  the 
horrid  things,"  she  implored  him. 

Fred    hesitated,    mopped    his   brow,    sat 

down    again,    and    smiled.     "I    was    only 

wondering,"  he  said  in  a  changed  manner, 

"if  they  wouldn't  like  the  key  to  the  trunk 

410 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

where  our  love-letters  are.  They  might  like 
them  to  start  the  fires  with.  They  could 
easily  pay  double  for  what  the  paper  is 
worth,  couldn't  they,  Molly?" 

But  Molly  did  not  laugh.  The  chagrin 
and  horror  of  the  whole  affair  swept  over 
her,  and  tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes.  She 
might  be  able  to  live  this  down  in  time,  as 
Fred  had  remarked,  but  she  would  never 
forget  it.  Life  would  never  be  as  pure  and 
sweet  again. 

" Never  mind,"  said  Fred,  "the  old  man 
will  arrive  soon  and  then  he'll  send  down 
his  tainted  money  by  Laura,  and,"  he  added, 
seeing  that  Molly  refused  to  be  comforted, 
"we'll  stop  off  on  the  way  through  town  and 
forget  all  about  everything  in  a  grand  cele 
bration — we'll  have  a  bully  dinner  and  then 
go  to  the  theatre  afterward."  He  leaned 
over  and  patted  her  hand.  She  was  taking 
it  too  seriously.  Therefore  he  took  her  too 
seriously.  That's  the  trouble  with  these 
happy  marriages.  They're  so  wearing — 
too  absorbing  for  busy  men  with  work  to 
do  in  the  world. 

411 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

But  though  the  old  man  came  that  eveiv 
ing,  no  check  was  sent,  because  his  sec 
retary  attended  to  such  trifling  affairs,  and 
his  secretary  was  in  town.  So  the  Carrolls 
instead  of  dining  grandly  at  the  Plaza, 
ate  a  miserable  dinner  at  the  Parkers'  and 
spent  the  night  in  a  stuffy  room  there,  the 
better  rooms  having  already  been  engaged 
in  advance  by  people  arriving  for  the  horse 
show. 

The  next  day  Fred  said,  "Shall  I  go  and 
dun  the  old  man?" 

"Decidedly  not!"  his  wife  replied.  "If 
they  haven't  decency  enough  to  do  the  cus 
tomary  thing,  we  sha'n't  put  ourselves  in 
their  class  by  reminding  them  of  it." 

Fred  said  he  failed  to  see  the  satisfaction 
in  this  feminine  revenge,  but  as  Molly  was 
so  nervous  and  unstrung  he  would  humor 
her,  hoping  this  would  amuse  her,  and  it 
did  a  little.  She  knew  that  he  would  rather 
be  shot  than  dun  his  tenants. 

They  hung  around   the   boarding-house 
all  day.    Fred's  sketching  materials  had  gone 
with  the  trunk  down  to  the  blessed  dunes. 
412 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

and  so  he  could  do  no  work.  Nor  did  they 
feel  like  going  to  the  club,  now  that  the 
horse  show  had  begun,  because  they  had 
told  every  one  they  were  leaving  town,  and 
because  Molly  would  be  sure  to  run  into 
Mrs.  Sterling  who  had  tipped  her.  So  Fred 
took  it  out  in  reading  the  Parkers'  paper- 
covered  novels,  and  Molly  in  gazing  resent 
fully  across  the  meadow  at  her  pre-empted 
house,  where  she  could  see  the  usurpers 
having  tea  in  her  cups  on  her  terrace. 

Now,  like  many  of  the  immensely  rich, 
newly  or  otherwise,  the  Sterlings  were— 
disappointing  though  it  might  be  to  the 
Carrolls  and  other  satirists — simple,  kindly 
folk,  who  did  not  care  a  hang  about  being 
impressive  or  superior,  except  perhaps  in 
the  presence  of  older  or  greater  wealth; 
then,  to  be  sure,  an  interesting  phenomenon 
invariably  appeared.  No  smirking  or  kow 
towing;  the  Sterlings  were  not  that  sort. 
They  had  the  pride  of  natural  (or  unnatural) 
rulers  of  our  land,  conscious  of  their  powers 
for  gaining  possession  of  it.  But  whenever 
in  the  embarrassing  presence  of  our  already 
413 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

established  dynastic  rulers,  straightway,  like 
a  galvanic  reaction,  frills  and  foolishness 
arose  stiffly  upon  the  kindly  Sterlings,  like 
bristles  upon  the  back  of  a  good-natured 
dog  in  the  presence  of  strange  and  bigger 
dogs.  Being  of  good,  plain  American  stock, 
given  to  loud  laughter  and  practical  jokes, 
they  never  enjoyed  the  uncomfortable  sen 
sation  which  accompanied  the  bristles.  The 
Sterling  daughters,  having  gone  to  the  best 
schools — the  most  expensive  things  are  al 
ways  the  best,  or  else  how  could  they  be 
the  most  expensive? — those  big,  healthy 
girls,  who  had  had  "all  the  advantages 
money  can  buy"  could  not  help  hating  their 
poor  old  mother  whenever  she  too  made  a 
well-meaning  effort  to  give  the  illusion  of 
refinement.  And  this,  in  turn,  made  them 
hate  themselves,  and  drop  their  handsome 
eyes  to  hide  this  feeling,  and  that,  of  course, 
revealed  it  to  their  uneasy  mother,  who 
wondered  what  "break"  she  had  made  this 
time.  As  for  the  old  man,  if  things  in  the 
Street  had  not  been  going  as  he  wished,  his 
fine  daughters  made  him  so  sick  with  their 
414 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

expensively  acquired  accent,  at  times,  that 
he  was  driven  to  drink,  and  then  said  such 
coarse,  horrid  things  that  afterward  (when 
he  had  arranged  matters  to  suit  him  in  the 
Street)  he  had  to  buy  them  each  a  handful 
of  diamonds,  or  something  equally  costly, 
in  order  to  "make  up";  for  he  loved  them 
all  devotedly,  wanted  them  to  have  "the 
best  of  everything,"  saying  (and  believing) 
that  this  was  why  he  enjoyed  working  so 
hard.  No,  unfortunately,  though  given  to 
practical  jokes,  none  of  the  Sterlings  had 
much  fun  out  of  pretending  to  be  what  they 
were  not  (as  yet).  They  hadn't  even  the 
artistic  (or  rather  the  academic)  satisfaction 
of  making  a  correct  copy  of  some  one  else's 
art.  But  though  little  dogs  know  better, 
they  can't  keep  those  bristles  down,  even 
when  the  big  dog  trots  serenely  past,  intent 
upon  his  own  pursuits — without  so  much  as 
seeing  them.  It's  the  nature  of  the  brute. 
Later,  as  we  may  see,  if  Charles  F.  Ster 
ling's  wealth  kept  on  quadrupling  as  at 
present  he  would  be  forced  to  go  in  for 
a  social  career  seriously.  Those  rapidly 
415 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

plumping  daughters  would  have  to  be  sup 
plied  with  appropriate  husbands  upon  whom 
to  bestow  their  fat  fortunes  and  their  sweet, 
wholesome  persons.  Then  the  old  man 
would  wake  up  and  add  to  his  already  large 
retinue  a  couple  of  expensive  social  couriers, 
a  male  and  a  female  one,  and  thus  attain 
another  ambition,  with  the  business-like 
thoroughness  so  characteristic  of  the  golden 
age  of  the  greatest  people  civilization  has 
ever  had  a  chance  to  boast  of.  But  as  yet 
the  simple  Sterlings  were  diverted  with  the 
mere  novelty  of  spending,  which  they  were 
doing  amiably  and  with  a  guileless  wonder 
that  certain  of  their  old  friends,  for  whom 
they  were  more  than  willing  to  do  nice 
things,  hated  them  for  it. 

They  wanted  to  be  comfortable  and  have 
fun  with  their  money.  They  had  looked 
over  the  CarrohV  house,  saw  that  they 
would  be  comfortable  in  it,  and  were  pro 
ceeding  to  have  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  the 
horse  show,  where  they  had  the  honor  and 
perplexity  of  meeting  members  of  a  con 
servative  colony  complacently  regarding  it- 
416 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

self  as  more  exclusive  and  desirable  than 
certain  richer  and  more  fashionable  cen 
tres  of  which  the  Sterlings  had  read  with 
mingled  scorn  and  envy.  They  didn't 
know  that  the  Carrolls  hadn't  been  paid. 
The  Carrolls  didn't  enter  into  their  exist 
ence. 

Having  let  the  matter  of  the  rent  pass  by 
a  day  or  two,  the  Carrolls  felt  more  reluc 
tant  than  ever  about  bringing  it  to  Mr. 
Sterling's  attention.  They  did  not  care  to 
do  things  of  that  sort.  Besides,  it  would  in 
volve  an  explanation;  and  while  they  main 
tained  that  it  was  a  matter  of  utter  indiffer 
ence  to  them  if  the  whole  world  knew  that 
they  were  hard  up,  being  beautifiers  of  the 
world,  not  predatory  exploiters  of  it  (like 
some  vulgar  people)  yet  they  "were  not 
accustomed  to  explaining  their  actions"  to 
any  one!  So  they  kept  on  hoping  each 
day  that  their  millionaire  tenant  would  re 
member  and  send  a  check  without  being 
reminded.  In  short,  the  Carrolls  spent 
horse-show  week  at  the  Parkers'  expensive 
boarding-house,  taking  exercise  only  at 
417 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

night  under  cover  of  darkness,  so  as  to 
avoid  meeting  their  friends. 

"  Going  to  have  something  of  an  electric- 
light  bill  this  month,"  Fred  would  say  as 
they  stealthily  passed  the  brilliant  house 
which  belonged  to  them  and  whence  issued 
music  and  laughter.  But  Molly  would  not 
look.  She  only  sighed  and  passed  by  in 
silence  to  the  dreary  boarding-house. 

A  woman  is  always  attached  to  her  home, 
for  isn't  it  her  sphere,  as  has  been  well  said  ? 
Man  has  never  been  completely  attached. 
He  merely  pays  for  it,  and  that  takes  him 
out  of  it. 

IV 

Laura  proved  so  useful  to  the  steward 
that  she  was  retained  throughout  the  week. 
"  De  ole  man,  he's  mighty  pleased  with  our 
house,"  she  reported  to  Molly,  "so  nice  and 
cosey,  he  says.  He  asked  de  ladies  how  much 
did  Charlie  pay  for  it.  Dat's  de  secretary. 
Dey  didn't  know,  so  he  asked  de  steward, 
and  de  steward  he  say,  'Two  hundred,  I 
believe,  suh.'  'A  day  ?'  asked  de  ole  man. 
418 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

'No,  suh,  for  de  whole  week.'  'Dat's  a 
shame/  he  says,  sort  o'  cross.  'I'm  a-gun- 
ter  speak  to  Charlie  about  dis.'  So,  I  spect 
we'll  get  more  'n  any  ole  two  hundred  dol 
lars,  when  it  do  come!" 

"Indeed!"  cried  Molly/' the  vulgar  parve 
nus!  As  if  we'd  dream  of  accepting  more 
than  the  stipulated  amount!" 

"Of  course  not,"  snorted  Fred — and 
probably  they  would  have  declined,  but 
they  obtained  more  than  the  stipulated 
amount  of  satisfaction  out  of  being  indig 
nant  about  it. 

"  I  am  bound  to  say,"  Molly  added,  "  their 
unbusiness-like  negligence  has  cost  us  much 
more  than  two  hundred." 

"I  haven't  earned  a  dollar  since  you  be 
gan  cleaning  house  for  them,"  sighed  Fred. 

"Besides,  there's  all  the  vexation  and 
annoyance,"  said  Molly  thoughtfully,  "  But 
if  the  pigs  try  to  make  us  accept  a  cent  more 
than  two  hundred,"  she  added  quickly, 
"we'll  send  it  straight  back."  A  pause. 
"Won't  we,  dear?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Fred,  Another  pause. 
419 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"I  wonder  how  large  an  amount  the  pigs 
will  try  to  make  us  accept." 

They  talked  about  this  a  good  deal,  hav 
ing  so  little  else  to  do.  They  decided  that 
the  check  would  be  left  for  them  in  the 
house.  Molly  wondered  in  what  part  of 
the  house.  "On  the  newel-post/'  sug 
gested  Fred. 

At  last  the  dreary  week  was  finished,  and 
the  Carrolls,  restraining  each  other  on  the 
Parkers'  porch  until  the  last  trunk  had  left> 
ran  across  the  meadow  hand  in  hand  to 
their  beloved  home,  their  very  own  again. 

"This  makes  it  almost  worth  while," 
cried  Molly  rushing  into  the  house  and 
picking  up  one  after  another  of  her  precious 
possessions,  fondling  them  like  long-lost 
children,  talking  to  them,  asking  them  if 
they  had  missed  her.  In  justice  to  the  pigs 
it  must  be  stated  that  they  had  left  their 
temporary  sty  in  very  good  shape.  Even 
Molly  admitted  that,  grudgingly.  None  of 
the  ancestral  Spode  was  broken.  But  pres 
ently  her  husband  heard  a  cry  of  alarm. 
"Fred,  Fred!"  she  called,  running  out  into 
420 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

the  studio,  "  I  can't  find  the  mediaeval  salt- 
holder!" 

"Well,"  said  Fred,  "I  may  as  well  tell 
you  that  my  grandfather's  portfolio  is  gone!" 
It  was  wonderfully  colored,  that  piece  of  old 
leather. 

They  stared  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"We  ought  to  have  known  better  than 
to  leave  such  valuable  things  about,"  said 
Fred. 

"Let's  telegraph,"  said  Molly. 

Just  then  Laura,  having  heard  the  alarm, 
waddled  in  impressively.  "Now,  Miss 
Molly,"  she  said  sententiously,  "don't  you 
get  so  excited,"  and  with  that  crossed  the 
room  with  dramatic  deliberation.  "  I  reckon 
you-all  didn't  look  in  dese  shelves  where 
Mr.  Fred  keeps  his  drawin's,"  she  said 
chuckling,  and  quietly  produced  the  missing 
idols. 

"Oh,  Laura!"  cried  Molly  gratefully, 
"how  good  of  you  to  hide  them  for  us!" 

"Bless  yore  heart,  honey,  /  didn't  hide 
'em.  De  steward  he  put  'em  out  o'  sight 
because  dey  was  too  old  and  shabby  for  his 
421 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

people,  he  says.     Mrs.   Sterling  is  a  mos' 
particular  lady." 

The  Carrolls  looked  at  each  other  and 
burst  into  laughter,  and  the  longer  they 
thought  about  it  the  more  they  laughed. 
If  "a  good  laugh"  is  worth  two  dollars  at  a 
Broadway  theatre  a  rebate  was  already 
due  the  generous  Sterlings. 

"And  dose  old-timey  goblets  you-all 
brought  from  de  city  ?  Dey  was  given  to 
de  servants9  table!"  shrilled  Laura  with  a 
fat  African  cackle,  worth  at  least  a  gallery 
seat,  at  the  Sterlings'  expense. 

While  continuing  their  tour  of  investiga 
tion  Fred  began  to  laugh  afresh  and  di 
rected  Molly's  attention  to  the  mantel 
piece  in  the  living-room.  There  stood  the 
new  pair  of  old  candlesticks,  the  ones  whose 
rich  green  color  had  led  them  to  the  extrava 
gance  of  the  purchase.  They  were  now  as 
bright  and  shining  as  the  brass-work  on  the 
Sterlings'  yacht.  The  tone  of  time  had 
gone.  But  progress  should  not  be  blocked 
and  the  desert  must  bloom  for  the  larger 
good. 

422 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Well,  it  serves  us  right/'  said  Fred,  "for 
renting  our  house  to  such  people." 

"By  the  way,"  cried  Molly,  "the  check!" 

"That's  so,"  he  answered  springing  up, 
"the  check!"  and  off  they  sped  to  search 
for  it,  like  a  pair  of  children.  They  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  check. 

"  Look  in  your  studio ! "  called  Molly  who 
was  looking  upon  her  desk  in  the  living-room. 
"That's  your  place  of  business,  you  know." 

"Look  on  your  bureau,"  shouted  Fred, 
"that's  where  tips  are  usually  left." 

But  it  wasn't  in  any  of  these  places  nor 
on  the  hall  table  where  the  letters  were  usu 
ally  left.  At  last  they  looked  on  the  mantel 
piece  in  the  dining-room,  and  found  not  a 
check,  but  something  that  Molly  had  never 
seen  in  her  sacred  home  before — a  wine- 
glassful  of  toothpicks.  "Remove  that!" 
she  commanded  Laura  in  the  same  horri 
fied  tone  she  had  employed  with  the  Ster 
lings'  man  servant. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  first  of  the  fol 
lowing  month  that  they  received  their  check. 
Fred  passed  it  in  silence  over  to  Molly. 
423 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Why,  it's  only  two  hundred,  after  all!" 
she  remarked. 

"Well,"  said  Fred,  "that  saves  us  the 
trouble  of  returning  the  balance." 

"But  I  wanted  to  return  it!"  she  cried. 
"Now  we  sha'n't  have  even  that  satisfac 
tion." 

Then  they  had  another  good  laugh  and 
went  on  with  life  where  it  left  off  before  the 
attack  of  the  Philistines. 


They  thought  that  ended  the  matter,  but 
it  did  not.  The  set-back  to  Fred's  work 
was  a  climax  to  many  set-backs  since  he  had 
established  himself  in  the  country.  It  was 
difficult  to  get  models  for  his  figure-work. 
He  was  losing  touch  with  his  friends  and 
affairs  in  town.  The  Carrolls  spent  a  month 
or  two  there  in  the  winter,  but  that  was 
hardly  enough,  though  often  too  much  for 
the  children.  He  was  not  getting  ahead 
in  his  work,  he  was  getting  behind.  He 
was  still  doing  illustrations  at  a  time  in 
424 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

his  career  when  by  the  prognostications  of 
his  early  critics  he  should  have  been  doing 
nothing  but  masterpieces  for  museums  or 
millionaires  like  Mr.  Sterling.  But  while 
there  were  plenty  of  other  young  fellows 
coming  along  to  supply  spots  of  color  in 
gilt  frames  for  the  homes  of  those  who  could 
afford  such  superfluous  luxuries,  there  was 
no  one  else  to  supply  food  and  clothes  for 
the  children  in  his  own  home.  So  though 
right  to  stick  to  illustrations,  he  sometimes 
thought  it  wrong  to  stick  to  the  country. 
So  did  Molly.  But  they  seldom  talked 
about  it.  It  was  an  awful  thought. 

Now,  the  old  man  was  a  very  busy  old 
man,  and  had  forgotten  to  speak  to  Charlie. 
But  the  very  next  fall  he  remembered  how 
much  he  liked  that  little  house  he  had  occu 
pied  during  the  horse  show;  was  reminded 
of  it  by  the  ladies  of  the  family,  for  they 
liked  it  too.  Such  being  the  case  the  Ster 
lings  decided  to  buy  it.  They  had  no 
house,  as  it  happened,  in  just  that  part  of 
the  world,  and  they  might  want  to  build  a 
place  out  there.  Meanwhile,  and  in  any 
4*5 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

case,  this  little  house,  they  agreed  amicably, 
would  do  perfectly  well.  It  would  be  con 
venient  for  the  horse-show  week,  or  if  they 
ever  wanted  to  go  out  and  play  golf  there. 
Perhaps  the  old  man  sensed  the  future  value 
of  this  bit  of  real  estate.  Perhaps  the  girls 
cherished  a  secret  but  worthy  ambition  of 
"getting  in  with"  those  "awfully  nice  peo 
ple"  who  did  not  care  much  for  frills. 

So  Fred  received  another  call  from  the 
brisk  young  secretary.  Charlie  stated  in  a 
polite,  business-like  manner  that  Mr.  Ster 
ling  was  prepared  to  make  an  advantageous 
offer  for  the  property,  if  it  could  be  done 
quietly  and  without  delay — and  if  Mr.  Car 
roll  didn't  ask  too  much  for  it. 

"Indeed?"  said  Fred,  "I  hadn't  heard 
about  my  house  being  on  the  market." 

"  But  it  will  do  no  harm  to  make  you  an 
offer  just  in  private,"  said  the  smiling  sec 
retary.  "You  would  not  mind?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Fred.     "I'm  sure 

it  will  be  interesting,  but  I  do  not  care  to 

sell."     As  he  spoke  he  glanced  out  of  the 

window.    The  children  were  playing  Indian, 

426 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

brown-legged,  red-cheeked,  merry,  and  con 
tent.  There  were  no  near  neighbors  to  mind 
the  noise. 

"I  understand,  Mr.  Carroll,  I  under 
stand/'  said  Charlie,  thinking  he  did. 

The  secretary  understood,  through  the 
steward,  who  understood  through  Laura, 
something  about  the  Carrolls'  predicament 
during  horse-show  week.  Other  inquiries 
had  confirmed  his  original  surmise,  made 
when  they  asked  only  two  hundred  dollars 
rent  for  the  week.  It  was  clear  that  they 
were  hard  up,  and  it  was  shrewd  to  go  di 
rect  to  the  unpractical  artist,  instead  of 
dealing  through  a  real-estate  agent.  For, 
however  covertly  and  indirectly  such  ap 
proaches  were  made,  the  news  often  leaked 
out  that  Charles  F.  Sterling  was  the  pros 
pective  buyer  and  straightway  prices  soared 
annoyingly. 

"I  am  authorized,"  said  the  secretary, 
his  beady  little  mouse-like  eyes  now  fasten 
ing  themselves  on  Carroll's  face,  "to  offer 
you  the  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
cash  for  your  property."  When  we  "get 
427 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

down  to  business"  we  nearly  always  get  a 
different  look  in  our  eyes. 

A  smile  flittered  about  the  corners  of 
Fred's  mouth.  He  was  disappointed  in 
"  de  ole  man/'  This  was  not  a  liberal  offer, 
but  he  did  not  like  to  tell  the  secretary  so; 
it  might  hurt  his  feelings.  'You  are  most 
kind/'  said  Fred,  "but — well,  I  don't  care 
to  sell  anyway." 

Evidently  this  artist  was  no  fool;  perhaps 
he,  too,  saw  the  real-estate  future  of  the 
neighborhood.  "  Mr.  Carroll,"  said  Charlie 
urbanely,  "usually  these  affairs  are  long 
drawn  out.  I  am  obliged  to  settle  this  mat 
ter  at  once  and  take  the  return  train  for  the 
city."  He  glanced  at  his  watch,  "  I  am  very 
busy  to-day.". 

"  I  can  sympathize  with  you,"  said  Fred 
thinking  of  the  canvases  he  was  preparing 
for  his  exhibition  next  month  on  Fifth 
Avenue. 

"Mr.  Sterling  told  me  that  in  order  to 
close  the  deal  at  once  I  might  give  you  thirty 
thousand  dollars  for  your  property." 

"Did  he,  indeed!"  said  Fred,  "that  was 
428 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

very  generous  of  him,  but  it's  out  of  the 
question." 

"It's  five  thousand  more  than  the  place 
cost,"  said  the  secretary  in  his  business 
like  manner. 

Fred  resented  this.  "  You  are  mistaken," 
he  rejoined,  "it  is  nearly  six  thousand  more 
than  it  cost."  This  was  merely  to  show 
that  he,  too,  could  be  business-like  when  he 
tried.  "  But,  you  see,  the  great  trouble  is 
that  I  don't  care  to  sell." 

Charlie  now  regretted  that  he  had  not 
put  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  an  agent 
after  all.  But  he  had  been  told  to  get  the 
house,  and  get  it  he  would,  or  else  receive  a 
scowl  of  disapproval  on  his  return  to  the 
office.  A  few  minutes  later  he  was  offering 
Fred  thirty-five  thousand  for  the  property, 
then  thirty-eight,  and,  finally,  "just  to  make 
it  an  even  sum  and  close  the  deal,"  Fred 
was  obliged  to  refuse  forty  thousand  of 
Charles  F.  Sterling's  hard-earned  cash. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  how  flattered  I  am," 
he  said,  now  drawing  an  exqusite  amuse 
ment  out  of  the  situation,  "to  find  my 
429 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

humble  home  so  greatly  admired  by  one  of 
Mr.  Sterling's  means — and  taste.  Frankly, 
I  had  no  idea  that  it  could  appeal  to  him  so 
keenly,  but " 

"  You'll  never  get  such  an  offer  again/' 
interrupted  Charlie. 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Fred,  "and  I  hope 
you'll  soon  stop  this  bidding  up  of  the  price. 
It  may  be  business-like,  but  it  makes  me 
dizzy." 

"That  is  my  limit,"  said  the  secretary 
rising  to  go. 

"Good,"  said  Fred  in  sincere  relief. 

"  I  won't  offer  you  a  cent  more,"  snapped 
out  the  other  somewhat  angry  at  Fred's 
flippancy. 

"I  am  so  glad,"  said  Fred. 

"Oh,  come!"  cried  the  exasperated  sec 
retary,  "what  is  your  price  ?" 

"I  haven't  any." 

"  Do  you  want  to  sell  or  not  ? "  demanded 
the  secretary  impatiently. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  laughed  Fred.  "I 
said  so  in  the  first  place,  you  know."  And 
just  then  the  wild  Indians  without  set  up  a 

43° 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

treble  war-hoop.  It  was  a  shout  of  tri 
umph,  the  enemy  had  been  routed. 

Charlie  picked  up  his  hat.  "I  thought 
you  were  bluffing." 

"That  was  your  mistake.  But  in  order 
that  you  may  not  make  another  one,  just 
tell  Mr.  Sterling,  with  my  compliments,  that 
he  hasn't  money  enough  to  buy  this  place." 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  other,  laughing 
at  the  artist. 

"Because,"  said  Fred,  "he  could  never 
appreciate  my  house." 

That  was  all  right  to  say  to  Sterling;  but 
behind  it  loomed  a  motive  bigger  than  a 
house:  formerly  the  Carrolls  owned  their 
home — now  the  home  owned  them.  The 
rising  generation  was  knocking  at  the  door. 


VI 

At  the  exhibition  of  landscapes  by  Fred 
eric  Carroll,  the  following  month,  two- 
thirds  of  the  canvases  were  snapped  up  dur 
ing  the  first  day  of  the  sale.  This  made 
such  a  sensation  that  the  rest  sold  quickly. 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"Frederic  Carroll,  the  former  illustrator, 
has  undoubtedly  arrived,"  wrote  a  well- 
known  critic.  Most  of  the  canvases  re 
ferred  to  were  crated  to  the  town  house  of 
Charles  F.  Sterling. 

"And  yet,"  said  Fred  swaggeringly  to 
Molly,  "some  people  say  painters  aren't 
practical." 

"It's  simply,"  quoted  Molly  applaud 
ingly,  "that  usually  there  are  more  impor 
tant  things  to  think  about." 


432 


IX 

THE  CARROLLS'  FORMAL  GARDEN 

SCENES:    Fred's  studio,  Molly's  mind,  and  the  Carrotts' 
terrace. 

(MRS.  CARROLL  THREATENS  TO  BECOME  A  NEW  WOMAN, 
MUCH  TO  THE  PERPLEXITY  OF  HER  LOVING  AND  LOVED 
HUSBAND.  THE  CHILDREN  AND  OTHER  CONSERVATIVE 
ALLIES  STAND  BY  HIM,  AND  WE  NEED  FEEL  LITTLE  CON 
CERN  OVER  THE  NET  RESULT.) 

I 

WHEN  Fred  and  Molly  finished  the  build 
ing  and  furnishing  of  their  celebrated  coun 
try  house  there  had  been  no  money  left  for 
what  they  had  always  counted  upon  most 
of  all — the  garden.  Though  scarcely  half 
as  extensive  as  the  " rambling  old"  manor 
house  they  had  previously  constructed  in 
their  dreams,  it  may  be  recalled,  the  placid 
little  home  they  now  lived  in  had  innocent 
ly  swallowed  more  than  double  the  amount 
of  their  original  "appropriation,"  as  their 
433 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

combined  available  assets  had  been  lightly 
termed  by  Wilson  Peters,  originally  their 
trusted  friend,  subsequently  turned  their 
arch-architect,  with  whom  they  were  at  pres 
ent  upon  a  footing  of  noticeable  politeness, 
far  more  formal  than  any  garden  of  theirs 
would  ever  care  to  be. 

For,  when  it  came  to  the  apportioning  of 
their  share  of  the  world  and  the  problem 
had  reduced  itself  to  a  choice  between  a 
tennis  court  for  Fred  or  a  garden  for  Molly, 
they  decided  to  compromise  upon  the  tennis 
court.  Exercise  was  a  necessity,  whereas 
gardening  was  a  mere  luxury.  "Besides," 
as  Molly  added  to  clinch  the  matter,  for  she 
advocated  the  tennis  court  because  she  knew 
Fred  preferred  it,  just  as  he  insisted  upon  a 
garden  because  he  knew  how  she  longed  for 
it — "Besides,  I  can  play  on  the  court,  but 
you  would  never  work  in  the  garden."  So 
Fred  laughed  and  good-naturedly  gave  in, 
not  willing  to  appear  unreasonable  in  the 
matter.  Wives  are  wonderful  wheedlers. 

Now,  otherwise,  as  has  already  been  re 
corded,  the  house  had  proved  a  notable  suc- 

434 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

cess — "despite  that  man  Peters,"  as  Car 
roll  would  say,  with  a  reminiscent  smile  at 
his  wife,  when  week-end  guests  seemed  to 
appreciate  the  Carroll  estate  or  made  a  well- 
meaning  effort  in  that  direction  by  saying 
"so  artistic!" 

"The  good  features  of  the  house  were  all 
Fred's  ideas,"  Molly  would  always  say  in 
answer  to  his  smile,  readily  recognizing  her 
cue,  as  all  true  women  should  learn  to  do  if 
they  would  succeed  as  wives,  actresses,  or 
in  any  other  womanly  sphere. 

But  though  so  eminently  comely  and 
comfortable,  though  as  much  like  their 
dream  of  a  house  in  the  country  as  any 
thing  so  grossly  material  and  expensive  as 
a  house  could  hope  to  be,  the  house  could 
never  become  a  home,  it  seems,  would  re 
main  a  mere  house,  so  long  as  it  lacked  an 
out-door  room  to  smile  back  at  the  in-door 
rooms,  a  shadowy  place,  secluded,  unim- 
agined  even,  from  the  public  road;  a  place 
to  stroll  in  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  accord 
ing  to  the  precedent  established  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden,  and  followed  with  some 
435 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

interruption  ever  since;  a  place  to  work  in 
at  play  hours  and  mayhap  to  play  in  at 
what  ought  to  be  work  hours. 

A  few  flower  borders  Molly  possessed,  and 
plenty  of  shrubs,  properly  planted  along  the 
edges  of  things  or  massed  in  corners  in  ac 
cordance  with  the  orthodox  outlines  of  the 
landscape  architect  whom  Carroll  had  em 
ployed — when  that  man  Peters  had  at  last 
finished  making  a  mess — on  the  commend 
able  principle  of  its  paying  "in  the  long 
run"  to  start  right.  ("We'll  save  money  in 
the  end  by  spending  a  little  more  now,"  said 
Fred,  quoting  the  expert  landscape  opinion. 
"  But  do  you  suppose  we'll  ever  reach  the 
end?"  asked  Molly).  Planting  here  and 
there,  however  correctly,  however  success 
fully,  did  not  compose  a  garden.  This  was 
not  an  out-door  room.  These  more  or  less 
interesting  bits  were  not  a  structural  part  of 
the  habitation.  Indeed,  some  of  Molly's 
more  recent  flower-beds  looked  rather  lonely 
and  detached,  as  if  they  were  camping  out 
—a  very  good  thing  in  its  way,  Carroll  said, 
but  not  the  only  way  or  the  best  for  civil 
436 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

ized  living.  The  proper  place  for  beds  is 
within  the  walls  of  a  room,  even  though  a 
hammock  or  two  outside  will  do  no  harm  if 
placed  unobtrusively. 

Indeed,  as  the  seasons  rolled  by  and  the 
Carrolls'  vines  and  children  grew,  the  truth 
was  borne  in  upon  Molly  that  this  yearning 
for  a  garden  was  not  a  mere  luxury,  as  she 
had  supposed,  but  a  necessity,  an  organic 
need  of  her  nature;  that  her  otherwise  good 
and  useful  life  could  never  be  complete,  that 
she  could  never  " really  live"  until  she  had 
a  garden.  Some  women  feel  the  same  thing 
as  to  children.  She  pondered  the  matter 
in  her  heart  and  wondered  if  her  husband 
ever  felt  this  void  in  their  lives,  but  she  did 
not  like  to  broach  the  subject  of  her  secret 
sorrow.  He  was  a  Carroll,  and  the  Car- 
rolls  are  all  so  reserved.  It  was  such  a  deli 
cate  matter.  We  all  have  hidden  depths  in 
our  natures  where  even  our  dearest  dare 
not  enter. 

Now,  as  it  happened,  they  had  done  very 
well  in  the  way  of  children — or  were  doing, 
we  might  more  accurately  state,  since  they 
437 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

were  still  young  and  healthy  parents — very 
well  indeed,  considering  the  present  price 
of  the  necessities  of  life  which  a  wise  civ 
ilization  allows  young  parents  to  pay  for 
the  privilege  of  supplying  well-reared  future 
citizens,  and  well-built  country  places  to 
keep  poor-lonely-old  bachelors  in  over  Sun 
day — not  to  speak  of  keeping  them  and  all 
others  not  blessed  by  the  Lord  with  chil 
dren  alive  during  the  rest  of  the  lonely  week 
by  supplying  destructive  consumers  of  our 
variously  necessary  or  luxurious  products. 

By  this  time,  indeed,  nearly  all  the  rooms 
hospitably  designed  for  guests  had  been 
permanently  appropriated  by  offspring — 
the  impudent  squatters.  Perhaps  if  the 
Carrolls  had  not  been  so  long  on  future 
citizens — but  why  should  public  spirit  and 
private  gardens  go  together  ?  Race-suicide 
is  an  atrocious  evil.  We  can  condemn  it 
openly  now,  even  in  mixed  company,  since 
the  unpleasant  topic  has  been  decently 
clothed  with  a  becoming  phrase  by  an  au 
thority  who  has  an  independent  income. 
Often  the  modern  American  woman  was 
438 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

heartlessly  reviled  at  "The  Meadows"  by 
bachelor  guests — even  the  most  refined — 
while  their  hosts  listened,  looking  impressed 
with  this  properly  indignant  eloquence. 

Frederic  Carroll,  watching  solicitously, 
knew  and  understood  what  the  noble 
woman  who  bore  his  name  was  suffering  in 
silence;  with  mingled  feelings  of  shame  and 
tenderness,  of  sympathy  and  perhaps  aver 
sion  he  understood  as  well  as  a  man  can 
understand  a  woman's  yearnings.  So,  in  a 
man's  blundering  but  well-meaning  way,  he 
would  draw  near,  pat  her  hand  tenderly  and 
say,  "Let's  play  tennis." 

And  it  was  noticed  at  such  times  that  he 
was  very  thoughtful  and  solicitous,  serving 
easily  to  her  and  cheating  himself  consci 
entiously  in  the  score,  quite  as  during  their 
honeymoon,  years  and  years  ago. 

Yes,  sometimes  she  felt  that  he  under 
stood.  Once  she  had  caught  him  surrep 
titiously  measuring  off  spaces  on  the  slop 
ing  lawn  below  the  south  terrace,  and  when 
she  asked  him,  as  women  will,  "What  are 
you  doing,  dearest?"  he  had  started,  an- 

439 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

swered  gruffly,  "Oh,  nothing  darling,"  and 
hid  the  tape  measure.  And  one  day  when, 
supposed  to  be  out  upon  social  duties,  she 
entered  the  studio  unexpectedly,  her  heart 
gave  a  great  bound  of  primal  joy,  for  there 
upon  the  easel  (where  he  was  supposed  to 
be  turning  out  a  money-maker)  she  beheld 
the  very  vision  of  her  dreams — a  silent,  sil 
very  pool  gleaming  in  twilight  shadows,  re 
flecting  serenely  a  pair  of  stately  cypresses 
in  the  background,  one  a  little  taller  than 
the  other;  a  broad  flight  of  easy  steps  in 
the  foreground,  half  hidden  in  the  shadow, 
a  little  crumbling  perhaps  at  the  edges, 
half  choked  by  flowers  at  the  bottom;  and 
surrounding  it  all  an  old  stone  wall,  very 
tall,  very  mellow,  nearly  hidden  by  vines 
and  completely  covered  by  the  tone  of  time, 
as  Frederic  Carroll  could  suggest  so  well, 
so  much  better  than  any  painter  of  his 
day. 

"What's   that   you   are   taking   down?" 
asked  Molly,  framed  in  the  doorway  in  her 
calling  clothes.    She  tried  to  make  the  ques 
tion  sound  casual,  unemotional.     To  have 
440 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

remained  silent  would  have  been  more  sig 
nificant,  embarrassing. 

"Oh,  nothing/'  said  Fred  with  the  well- 
known  Carroll  reserve.  He  was  blushing 
furiously.  He  hid  the  canvas  abruptly  in 
a  drawer  and  turned  the  key,  quite  as  once 
long  ago  when  he  had  come  upon  Molly  in 
the  sewing-room  she  had  abruptly  hid  some 
of  her  "work"  in  a  lowest  bureau  drawer, 
also  blushing  furiously,  only  she  had 
laughed  on  that  occasion  and  he  did  not  on 
this,  for  he  was  a  Carroll.  She  had  taught 
him  to  talk,  but  there  were  times  when  he 
could  not  be  made  to  smile,  except  at 
jokes. 

"It  looked  very  nice/'  said  Molly,  ignor 
ing  the  Carroll  reserve.  The  Carrolls  were 
rather  proud  of  it,  but  it  always  irritated 
her  immeasurably. 

"Just  a  pot  boiler." 

"Let  me  see  it." 

"Now,  Molly,  you  know  I  never  like  to 
show  things  until  I've  finished  them.     How 
pretty  your  new  dress  is!     I  always  like  you 
in  that  sort  of  thing." 
441 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  until  his  gaze 
fled  from  hers.  Then  she  knew  and  under 
stood  that  he,  too,  alas!  had  a  vacant  place 
in  the  hidden  recesses  of  his  deep,  strong, 
and  reserved  nature.  Their  sorrow,  though 
unspoken,  was  shared. 


II 

"But  that's  a  formal  garden!"  sniffed 
one  of  the  neighbors,  to  whom  Fred  secretly 
showed  his  plans,  carefully  drawn  to  scale. 

"What  of  it  ?"  asked  Carroll.  "Does  it 
embarrass  you  ?" 

"What  do  you  want  with  a  formal  garden  ? 
A  mere  affectation,  utterly  artificial." 

Fred  Carroll  was  a  painter,  but  lay  opin 
ions  seldom  irritated  him;  they  interested 
him.  "The  term  ' formal '  seems  to  frighten 
you.  It  still  misleads  so  many  good  Ameri 
cans.  You  think  that  a  formal  garden  must 
be  like  a  formal  function — something  pre 
tentious  and  uncomfortable.  It  simply 
means,"  he  added,  "one  that  has  form,  not 
forms — forms  of  beasts  and  birds  clipped 
442 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

out  of  yew  trees,  and  similar  atrocities. 
Your  house  has  form — carefully  studied  pro 
portions,  an  arrangement  of  lines  and  colors 
in  such  a  way  that  the  whole  composes  pleas 
ingly,  so  why  shouldn't  the  out-door  portions 
of  your  home  be  treated  with  architectural 
consideration,  too?"  Perhaps  Carroll  also 
found  interest  in  giving  laymen  the  benefit 
of  his  views. 

But  this  layman  shook  his  head.  "I  be 
lieve  in  letting  God's  good  out-doors  alone. 
Nature  is  a  good  enough  landscape  architect 
for  me." 

"But  not  for  me,"  answered  the  artist 
imperturbably;  "nor  for  you  either,  only 
you  don't  know  it." 

"I  should  say  I  didn't!"  and  the  layman 
sniffed  more  than  ever.  "I  prefer  nature's 
arrangement  of  flowers  and  woods  and 
meadows  to  the  gingerbread  patterns  ar 
ranged  by  man." 

"Well,  I  like  woods  and  meadows  and 
things,  myself,"  the  artist  rejoined,  smiling. 
"I  ought  to,  I  make  my  living  painting 
them.  But  I  shouldn't  care  to  have  my 

443 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

house  plunked  down  in  the  middle  of  an 
uncleared  woods  or  a  rank,  ungraded 
meadow.  Nor  do  you,  I  notice.  If  nature 
is  a  good  enough  landscape  architect  for 
you,  why  don't  you  let  her  run  riot  up  to 
that  imposing  front  door  of  yours  instead  of 
having  your  extensive  lawn  carefully  cut 
every  week  at  considerable  expense?" 

"Oh,  that's  different;  every  one  does 
that." 

"It's  'utterly  artificial/"  quoted  Carroll. 
"So  is  keeping  those  neat  hedges  of  yours  so 
carefully  clipped — 'a  mere  affectation." 

"Well,  it's  the  custom." 

"So  you're  a  slave  to  fashion,  are  you? 
Then  you  might  as  well  prepare  to  build  a 
formal  garden;  it  is  rapidly  becoming  a 
fashionable  fad  in  this  country."  This  was 
several  years  ago. 

"Not  for  me.  I  won't  have  stiff,  dinky 
flower-beds  like  a  cemetery,  fancy  stone 
balustrades  like  a  comic-opera  stage --not 
on  my  place!" 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  said  Fred,  joining 
in  the  other's  laugh,  "if  you  judge  formal 

444 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

gardens  by  cemeteries  and  stage  settings; 
but  the  trouble  is  you  have  dinky  little 
flower-beds  already,  scattered  about  all  over 
your  place,  in  little  dabs  here  and  there  in 
a  meaningless  manner,  neither  like  '  God's 
good  out-doors'  nor  man's  good  art.  Long 
as  you  are  going  to  be  'unnatural,'  as  of 
course  we  are  all  bound  to  be  from  the 
moment  we  prefer  houses  designed  by  man 
to  caves  designed  by  nature,  or  family  life 
to  a  beastly  promiscuity,  you  might  just  as 
well  arrange  it  all  decently  and  rationally 
and  beautifully  instead  of  hideously.  This 
requires  individual  thought  as  well  as  col 
lective  authority — not  a  mere  stupid  fol 
lowing  of  your  neighbor's  customs." 

So  the  argument  went  futilely  on,  as  simi 
lar  arguments  on  the  same  subject  have  gone 
for  centuries  and  will  keep  on  going,  no 
doubt  for  many  centuries  more.  But  the 
joke  of  it  was  that  the  one  so  jeeringly 
prejudiced  against  the  foolishness  of  formal 
gardens  acquired  one  on  his  place — oh, 
quite  a  pretentious  one,  full  of  gingerbread 
patterns — within  a  very  few  years,  whereas 

445 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  painter  who  was  so  keen  on  the  subject 
had  still  nothing  but  plans  on  paper  and 
ideas  in  his  head. 

And  the  further  comedy  of  it  was  that  the 
neighbor  was  not  converted  by  Fred,  as  the 
latter  believed,  but  merely  had  acceded  to 
the  importunities  of  his  wife,  who  wanted 
"an  Italian  garden"  for  the  good  and  suffi 
cient  reason  that  Everyone  was  getting 
them — the  fad  had  arrived! 

It  sometimes  seemed  to  the  Carrolls  all 
wrong  that  those  who  have  the  ability  to 
conceive  and  make  and  fully  appreciate  the 
beautiful  things  of  life  so  seldom  have  the 
money  to  acquire  them.  But  that  was  a 
narrow,  selfish  view  of  the  matter.  For  if 
Fred  had  "devoted  his  life"  to  cultivating 
the  acquisitive  talent,  his  aesthetic  talents 
might  not  have  prospered  so  well.  And 
more  of  that  sort  of  prosperity  is  sorely 
needed  in  this  broad  land  of  ours.  Besides, 
it  is  good  for  the  character,  as  Aunt  Bella 
often  remarked,  to  do  without  what  you  par 
ticularly  want.  She  was  the  wealthy  aunt 
who  had  a  town  house  and  a  couple  of 
446 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

country  places.  So  the  Carrolls,  whose 
sorrow  was  no  longer  secret,  ought  to  have 
been  glad  about  it.  It  isn't  every  one  that 
can  beautify  the  world  while  being  ex 
ploited  by  it.  Not  all  of  us  are  enabled  to 
pay  tribute  to  the  privileged  classes  and  yet 
enjoy  "the  blessed  privilege  of  bringing  up 
little  souls  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of 
the  Lord/'  to  quote  again  from  excellent 
Aunt  Bella,  who  had  never  married.  Char 
acter-building  is  far  more  important  than 
building  mere  gardens.  All  the  Carrolls  of 
the  past  had  been  keen  on  character-build 
ing,  including  that  ancestor  (only  by  mar 
riage)  who  had  done  so  much  to  build  up 
the  South  African  trade  in  Medford  rum. 
Even  Archie,  of  the  present,  talked  a  good 
deal  about  self-abnegation  to  his  Sunday- 
school  class.  He  was  the  one  who  had 
married  the  rich  widow.  The  Freds  did  not 
talk  so  much  about  it.  They  hadn't  time 
nor  money  to  do  good.  So  they  had  a  fine 
lot  of  character  brought  to  them  free. 

"I'm  afraid  we're  getting  more  than  our 
just  share,"   said   Molly,   who  abominated 

447 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

selfishness — though  she  also  was  only  by 
marriage  a  Carroll.  From  which  it  may 
be  seen  that  she,  too,  had  a  broad  public 
spirit,  though  not  a  citizen  at  all,  being 
merely  a  non-voting  female  woman. 

Well,  Fred,  at  least,  had  had  a  chance  to 
dissipate  his  garden  passion  upon  plans  and 
sketches  for  his  neighbor.  Carroll  was  so 
glad  to  have  been  the  means  of  making  a 
convert,  as  he  thought,  and  was  so  full  of 
ideas  and  enthusiasm  and  spent  so  much 
time  upon  the  project  that  the  practical 
business  man — he  prided  himself  upon  his 
shrewd  knowledge  of  human  nature — 
thought  that  the  artist  must  be  "  trying  to 
work  him  for  the  job,"  and  wondered  what 
he  would  charge.  But  when  he  found  that 
there  was  "nothing  in  it"  for  Carroll,  ex 
cept  the  fun  of  the  thing  and  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  wealth  wake  up  to  its  aesthetic 
responsibilities,  the  practical  man,  who  was 
not  strong  on  aesthetics,  jumped  to  the 
shrewd  conclusion  that  Fred's  ideas  could 
not  be  very  good  because  he  held  them  so 
cheap.  So  he  told  Fred  that  it  was  not 
448 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

right  to  impose  upon  his  time,  old  man, 
which  was  very  true,  and  turned  the  job 
over  to  a  landscape  architect  who  charged 
a  great  deal,  and  therefore  must  have  been 
good.  The  latter  let  Fred's  neighbor  in  for 
an  enormously  costly  garden.  Therefore, 
it  must  have  been  good,  too.  It  takes  a 
shrewd,  practical  man  to  deal  with  art. 

Well,  Fred  did  not  mind  that.  He  had 
had  his  fun,  making  designs  and  sketches. 
He  could  not  have  worked  them  out  in 
terms  of  cubic  feet  of  earth  and  Italian  day 
labor  anyway.  He  did  not  know  enough. 
He  would  have  made  a  mess  of  it.  He  was 
a  landscape  painter,  not  a  landscape  archi 
tect.  Only  it  made  him  furious  that  his 
pet  ideas  for  spacious  dignity  were  ignored 
in  the  final  plan — for  naturally  the  landscape 
architect  did  not  care  to  work  out  another 
man's  design,  a  mere  amateur  at  that — and 
when  the  finished  sketch  in  colors  was  com 
pleted  Fred  and  Molly  agreed  that  it  was 
"very  bad/'  just  as  the  landscape  architect 
and  his  client  agreed  that  Fred's  ideas  were 
"very  crude."  But  of  course  the  Carrolls 

449 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

tactfully  refrained  from  letting  their  neigh 
bors  suspect  that  their  garden  was  "restless 
and  self-consciously  expensive  and  quite  out 
of  scale  with  the  severe  old  house  beside  it"; 
and  the  owners  of  the  gay  garden  consider 
ately  refrained  from  telling  their  young 
friends  how  much  they  had  to  learn  about 
the  formal  treatment  of  great  American 
estates. 

When  the  garden  was  finished  the  owner 
led  the  Carrolls  through  its  gladsome  geo 
metric  intricacies  on  a  tour  of  inspection. 
"What  do  you  think  of  it  ?"  he  asked  Fred. 

Carroll  gazed  helplessly  at  the  pie-crus- 
tean  costliness,  wondering  what  to  say. 
Most  people  are  as  sensitive  about  their 
gardens  as  their  children.  A  caller  can't 
very  well  say  "My!  but  that  child  is  ugly." 
With  a  wink  at  Molly  he  turned  to  the  owner 
and  exclaimed  soulfully,  "How  you  must 
enjoy  having  it!" 

"Not  in  the  least!"  the  other  replied, 
"but  that  damned  landscape  architect  says 
it's  the  correct  thing.  It  ought  to  be.  It 
cost  enough." 

450 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

At  this  point  the  landscape  architect  him 
self  appeared.  He  glanced  at  Carroll  ner 
vously.  "Well,  what's  the  verdict?"  he 
asked.  For  he  respected  those  who  knew. 
He  only  pretended  to  respect  those  who 
paid — unless  they  also  knew,  as  has  been 
known  to  happen. 

"How  you  must  have  enjoyed  doing  it!" 
said  Fred. 

The  landscape  architect  took  the  artist 
aside,  as  if  to  show  him  the  pergola — which 
led  nowhere,  but  his  clients  "knew  what 
they  liked."  "Not  in  the  least.  But  they 
wanted  to  make  their  money  show  and — 
well,  I  guess  I've  shown  it  all  right!" 

On  the  way  home,  Fred  turned  to  his 
wife  and  declared  vehemently,  "Thank 
Heaven  we  couldn't  have  a  garden  when  we 
first  wanted  it!" 

"  But  ours  would  never  have  been  like 
that,"  she  answered. 

"  Don't   you    see  ?     The    design   he    has 

foisted  upon  those  poor  innocent  people  is 

merely  an  amplification  of  the  foolish  little 

doyly  pattern  he  tried  to  tempt  us  with.     It 

45 1 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

looked  interesting  on  paper.  Such  plans 
always  do,  when  you  can't  get  the  effect  of 
fore-shortening — and  we  might  not  have 
known  any  better  then!"  And  they  gazed 
at  each  other,  shuddering  at  their  narrow 
escape. 

"Well,"  said  Molly,  " there  are  advan 
tages  in  poverty  and  procrastination  after 
all."  Then  after  a  pause  she  added,  "But 
all  the  same  I  wish  we  had  a  garden." 


Ill 

Frederic  Carroll,  deeply  absorbed  in  the 
finishing  of  a  canvas,  was  pondering  over 
certain  minute  details  which,  possibly,  would 
not  make  a  vast  difference  to  the  progress 
of  civilization  one  way  or  the  other,  and 
were  undoubtedly  delaying  the  start  of  a 
lot  of  other  work  which  was  to  make  money 
to  pay  for  keeping  a  house,  a  wife,  four 
children,  and  three  dogs,  not  to  speak  of 
other  luxuries  with  which  it  is  said  artists 
should  not  encumber  the  free  expression  of 
their  own  individualities. 
452 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

But  he  was  not  thinking  about  the  flight 
of  time  or  the  progress  of  civilization  or 
any  of  his  other  obligations.  He  never  did 
while  at  work  (only  when  he  got  through 
and  had  bills  to  pay),  though  he  had  placed 
his  studio  with  one  of  its  windows  in  full 
view  of  the  drive  so  that  the  morning  pro 
cession  of  butchers,  grocers,  plumbers  and 
other  constant  callers  would  remind  him  of 
what  he  was  there  for. 

This  tendency  was  called  temperament, 
and  it  was  something  to  be  proud  of, 
though,  "My  dear,  it's  a  dreadful  thing  to 
keep  in  the  house,"  Molly  confided  to  her 
dearest  friend  over  the  tea-cups.  "It's 
worse  than  a  skeleton  in  a  family's  closet 
until  you  get  used  to  it." 

Molly  was  getting  used  to  it.  She  was 
seated  in  the  studio  now  near  by  him  to 
watch  his  genius  burn.  She  was  not  work 
ing.  It  is  not  a  woman's  place  to  work. 
She  was  merely  mending  a  few  dozen  gar 
ments  of  varying  sizes  and  descriptions  be 
longing  to  future  citizens  who  at  the  present 
moment  were  seeing  how  hard  a  tennis  ball 

453 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

could  be  thrown  against  their  loving  father's 
sky-light  without  smashing  the  glass.  Fred 
did  not  mind;  he  had  become  used  to  it. 
So  long  as  the  ball  did  not  come  all  the  way 
through,  he  rather  liked  it — they  might  do 
so  many  worse  things.  He  had  also  become 
used  to  having  Molly  around  while  he  was 
working.  She  had  taught  him — it  took 
years.  She  seldom  bothered  him  and  al 
ways  admired  his  work.  She  had  wonder 
ful  taste. 

She  even  helped  him,  though  he  did  not 
know  that.  He  thought  she  was  merely  ask 
ing  him  eager,  child-like  questions,  as  when 
he  was  a  young  and  precocious  lecturer  and 
she  a  young  and  precocious  pupil  at  the 
League,  where  each  had  begun  teaching  the 
other  several  things  unknown  before.  Judg 
ing  from  her  questions  she  was  quite  intelli 
gent  for  a  woman.  He  told  her  so. 

To-day,  however,  she  asked  a  banal  one, 
one  she  had  asked  before,  and  should  have 
had  intelligence  and  taste  enough  not  to 
ask  again.  But  it  distressed  her  to  see  him 
working  himself  into  pale  exhaustion  over 

454 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

something  which  was  already  beautiful 
enough  and  might  be  rendered  less  beau 
tiful  now  that  he  was  tired,  yet  would  not 
give  up.  "Oh,"  she  burst  out,  threading 
her  needle,  "why  don't  you  just  dash  it  off, 
and  let  it  go  at  that."  She  made  a  striking 
gesture,  thimble  and  all. 

He  came  back,  startled  from  his  tanta 
lizing  vision  of  the  thing  he  wanted  to 
grasp  and  hold  in  paint,  ever  beckoning, 
bewitching,  but  always  hovering  just  out  of 
reach.  He  came  back  just  in  time  to  see 
the  gesture.  It  interested  him.  He  would 
have  liked  to  dash  off  a  study  of  that.  Then 
he  heard  her  words,  realized  the  proportions 
and  the  curious  arrangements  of  the  world 
he  lived  in,  felt  guilty,  ashamed,  and  then 
irritated.  He  knew  all  that  as  well  as  she 
did,  but  it  was  a  wife's  duty  to  understand 
and  be  sympathetic.  He  took  his  pipe  out 
of  his  mouth.  "Let's  see  you — just  dash  it 
off,"  he  replied,  imitating  her  gesture  with 
his  pipe,  not  having  a  thimble.  Then  he 
smiled  indulgently  and  bent  to  his  work 
again  until  the  very  last  of  his  daylight  was 
455 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

gone,  which  meant,  as  the  month  was  June, 
after  the  Carroll's  usual  dinner  hour,  and 
this  not  only  caused  a  cold,  stiff  dinner,  but 
made  the  waitress  give  notice,  for  she  had  a 
lover  waiting  down  the  lane,  and  not  even 
waitresses'  lovers  ought  to  be  kept  waiting, 
any  more  than  artists  ought  to  be  married. 

Molly  had  been  a  great  artist  herself,  or 
was  going  to  be,  when  Fred  had  come  along 
and  spoiled  her  life.  So  it  was  rather  rub 
bing  it  in  to  jeer  at  her,  even  in  fun.  But 
then,  she  had  spoiled  his  life,  too,  as  she 
often  reminded  him.  Each,  it  seems,  had 
succeeded  in  making  a  complete  negative 
of  the  other's  life  when  they  affirmed  their 
intention  of  taking  each  other  for  better  or 
worse.  It  was  very  sad. 

When  first  married  she  had  wanted  to 
be  "just  an  old-fashioned  wife,"  because 
that  seemed  to  be  what  Fred  wanted.  And 
now  she  had  to  be  something  of  that  sort, 
whether  she  wanted  to  or  not.  It  seemed 
too  bad.  So  many  women  could  be  pro 
ducers  of  children,  but  so  few  women  have 
had  a  fair  chance  to  produce  great  works  of 

456 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

art.  For  that  reason  most  men  think  they 
can't.  Therefore  women  say  so  too,  many 
of  them.  For  we  give  them  everything, 
even  their  ideals  of  themselves,  which  is 
true  chivalry.  And  we  ask  nothing  in  re 
turn,  except  their  entire  selves,  which  is 
true  gallantry. 

Well,  a  few  days  later,  Molly  ordered  her 
husband  out  of  the  house  and  sent  him  off 
to  the  city  to  rest  and  have  a  good  time  with 
friends  at  the  club.  One  of  the  things  she 
had  learned  was  to  prevent  his  getting  at  a 
new  piece  of  "creative  work"  when  in  the 
exhausted  state  immediately  succeeding  a 
finished  product  of  creation.  For  he  had 
at  last  finished  it — at  least,  he  wanted  to 
fuss  with  it  some  more,  only  she  smilingly 
but  firmly  refused,  took  it  away  from  him, 
in  fact,  as  she  sometimes  took  a  toy  away 
from  Frederic,  Jr.,  when  he  became  tired  of 
its  proper  normal  functions  and  tried  to 
suck  the  paint  off. 

"  But  I've  got  a  new  slant  on  the  thing, 
entirely,"  pleaded  Frederic,  Sr.,  the  morn 
ing  he  was  to  start. 

457 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"It's  too  late/'  said  his  smiling  mentor. 
"I've  expressed  it  to  MacPherson's.  It 
will  make  a  hit."  And  sure  enough  it  did, 
being  one  of  the  most  charming  and  char 
acteristic  Carrolls  now  in  existence.  It  is 
now  worth  thousands — though  that  does  not 
help  the  Carrolls  much,  as  they  accepted 
mere  hundreds  for  it.  Others  got  the  un 
earned  increment  which,  however,  Carroll 
earned  for  them  by  painting  later  and  more 
powerful  works  of  art.  -Still,  some  credit 
should  be  given  the  learned  critics,  especially 
as  they  fell  to  scrapping  among  themselves 
and  thus  advertised  the  collection.  But  it 
would  not  aid  Fred's  deserving  heirs  and 
assigns,  if  the  multitude  paid  quarters  to 
gaze  in  amiable  ignorance  at  the  notable 
work  of  the  late  Frederic  Carroll — notwith 
standing  that  this  kind  of  "consumption"  of 
his  products  would  not  in  the  least  consume 
them.  And  there  is  an  economic  phenome 
non  difficult  for  brother  Roger,  the  professor, 
to  adjust  in  his  scholarly  book,  "The  New 
Economics."  It  is  an  oddly  arranged  world 
for  men  too,  except  those  who  go  in  for 
458 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

possessing  it.  It  is  arranged  very  well  for 
them.  They  arranged  it.  Or  rather  we  all 
arrange  it  nicely  for  them  by  graciously 
perpetuating  well-meant  institutions  which 
have  resulted  in  rewarding  worthy  com 
mercial  individualism  with  the  ultimate  con 
trol  of  all  other  forms  of  worthy  individual 
ism. 

Having  got  rid  of  her  husband,  Molly5 
with  a  quiet  glow  in  her  determined  eyes, 
sent  her  elder  offspring  in  charge  of  the 
nurse  across  the  sloping  meadow  to  the 
woods  for  a  picnic  by  the  spring.  Anything 
with  guava  jelly  in  it  was  a  picnic.  Then 
having  conferred  with  the  cook,  given  in 
cisive  orders  to  butcher's  and  grocer's  boys, 
answered  half  a  dozen  telephone  calls,  con 
sulted  with  the  gardener  about  the  irises 
(they  had  an  excellent  gardener,  even 
though  they  had  no  real  garden),  written 
three  or  four  letters  for  Fred — he  often  let 
her  do  such  things,  it  made  her  feel  that  she 
was  of  some  use — and  helped  make  half  a 
dozen  beds,  moving  with  light  staccato  foot 
steps  about  her  immaculate  and  glistening 

459 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

house,  she  suddenly,  stealthily  darted  into 
Fred's  studio,  picked  up  brushes  and  palette 
and  began  to  "dash  off"  an  oil  of  that 
portion  of  the  Carroll  estate  bounded  by 
the  studio  window — a  graceful  bit  of  trellis 
with  large  grape  leaves  in  sun  and  shadow 
framing  an  old  gate  (erected  the  year  be 
fore).  She  was  still  a  child  and  did  not 
like  to  take  dares.  Or,  was  she  a  woman 
with  the  spirit  of  the  old-fashioned  one 
trying  to  express  itself  in  terms  of  the 
new  ? 

But  just  as  she  was  well  started  upon  her 
dash,  young  Frederic,  Jr.,  aged  three, 
bleating  loudly  for  her,  tracked  her  down, 
found  her  out,  regarded  her  reproachfully 
and  reproved  her  for  deserting  him.  Ap 
parently  this  healthy  male  shared  the  com 
mon  masculine  prejudice  against  a  woman's 
going  out  of  her  sphere.  Woman  was  made 
for  man.  He  did  not  in  the  least  approve  of 
her  gazing  with  such  rapt  eyes  out  of  the 
window  of  her  happy  home.  Why  should 
she  when  she  could  look  at  him  ?  That 
ought  to  be  enough  for  any  true  woman. 
460 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

But  the  training  of  women  has  made 
them  very  adaptable,  some  would  say  de 
ceptive.  Those  worth  keeping  are  always 
making  romantically  interesting  excursions 
from  their  homes — in  spirit;  not  less  ro 
mantic  because  they  keep  their  men  in  com 
placent  ignorance  of  these  clandestine  sal 
lies. 

When  Molly  saw  that  what  she  was 
doing  failed  to  coincide  with  his  beautiful 
ideal  of  sweet  femininity  she  put  him  in  a 
chair  (before  the  window)  and  began  to 
paint  him.  He  did  not  know  that,  but 
he  saw  that  he  had  her  undivided  atten 
tion,  and  this  pleased  him  very  well.  She 
told  him  how  wonderful  he  was — and  she 
looked  as  if  she  meant  it.  She  admired  his 
work  (sucking  his  thumb).  She  asked  him 
intelligent  questions.  She  laughed  gayly  at 
his  witticisms.  He  thought  he  was  filling 
her  life.  He  complacently  believed  that  he 
had  put  an  end  to  her  nonsense.  What  they 
do  with  their  soft  little  feminine  hands  does 
not  matter  so  long  as  they  gaze  admiringly 
at  us.  It  is  just  as  well  to  let  them  play 
461 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

with  fancy  work,  beads,  baubles,  what  not; 
it  gives  them  something  to  do,  and  keeps 
them  out  of  mischief  against  the  return  of 
the  superior  sex. 

Molly  painted  rapidly,  not  being  ham 
pered  by  a  temperament.  She  was  obliged 
to.  He  had  gone  to  sleep  looking  con 
tented  and  adorable.  It  was  a  chance  she 
had  often  wanted.  She  was  painting  him 
so  with  the  background  of  out-doors.  The 
pose  might  not  last  long.  He  might  wake 
up  and  want  to  go  off  to  the  city — that  is,  the 
sand  pile.  And  yet  she  had  the  impudence 
to  jeer  while  she  took  this  unfair  advantage. 
"How  furious  you  would  be,"  she  smiled  at 
the  poor  duped  male,  "if  you  only  knew 
what  a  joke  I  have  on  you,  you  angel!  You 
hoped  to  prevent  me — you  are  helping  me!" 
There  was  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  her  eye. 
This  was  an  achievement.  Any  woman  of 
intelligence  may  regard  a  mere  fatuous 
father  as  so  much  putty  in  her  hands,  but 
it  takes  unusual  gifts  to  get  ahead  of  his 
child  of  three. 

And  yet  these  females  assume  a  guile- 
462 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

less  wonder  that  we  seek  to  keep  them  in 
the  home,  where  they  should  be  securely 
locked.  They  even  pretend,  in  order  to 
dupe  us,  that  the  motive  we  allege  is  chiv- 
alric.  It  is  not  they  that  we  wish  to  pro 
tect,  but  ourselves,  and  they  know  it,  even 
when  we  do  not.  For  the  first  law  of  nature 
makes  itself  felt  and  obeyed  even  among  the 
blind. 

By  the  time  the  children  had  wandered 
back  from  their  picnic  and  Fred  had  re 
turned  from  town,  weary  from  too  much 
smoking  and  weighted  down  with  gossip 
and  shop  talk  from  the  club  (but  refreshed, 
all  the  same,  and  glad  to  be  back),  Molly 
had  finished  her  creative  dash  and  had 
hidden  it  carefully  away  (in  the  lowest 
bureau  drawer  where  she  kept  other  things) 
and,  dressed  all  in  white — men  loved  them 
"all  in  white" —she  was  seated  serenely 
before  the  white  wicker  tea-table  upon  the 
cool  green  terrace  to  welcome  him,  looking 
as  sweet  and  guileless  and  fresh  as  the  ter 
race  itself  or  Freddie,  Jr.,  who  was  also 
in  white  and  who  knew  no  more  of  what 
463 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

had  happened  or  of  what  its  consequences 
would  be  than  Frederic,  Sr. 

"You  poor  dear  boy,  it  must  have  been 
dreadfully  hot  in  town/'  she  said  kissing  him. 
"Boys,  bring  the  reclining  chair  for  your 
father.  There,  sit  down — here's  your  tea — 
now  tell  me  a- all  about  everything." 

And  he  did,  adding  beamingly,  "And 
how  have  things  gone  with  you,  dear  ?" 

"Very  smoothly.  The  children  have  been 
perfect  angels  all  day.  And  Freddie  has 
helped  his  mother  wonderfully — haven't 
you,  my  adorable?" 

The  unsuspecting  namesake  had  been 
hugging  one  of  her  fair  hands;  this  he  now 
kissed,  being  fond  of  her.  It  was  the  very 
hand  that  had  betrayed  him. 


IV 

For  fear  it  might  worry  him,  it  had  been 
Molly's  intention  to  let  her  husband  remain 
in  ignorance  of  her  faithlessness  so  long  as 
possible.  That  is  always  the  best  way  to 
do  it.  The  fiction  about  women  and  se- 
464 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

crets  is  one  of  the  traditions  men  fatuously 
enjoy  handing  down  from  generation  to  gen 
eration  of  males,  while  women  listen  pa 
tiently  and  enjoy  men's  believing  it.  But 
the  female  is  the  only  sex  which  can  keep 
important  secrets,  being  trained  to  do  so 
from  infancy  by  almost  every  relation  in 
life.  It  is  only  that  so  few  secrets  we  con 
sider  important  these  females  consider  im 
portant  enough. 

But  when  one  day,  a  month  or  two  later, 
an  express  package  of  familiar  shape  was 
brought  into  the  studio  Fred,  without  no 
ticing  the  "Mrs."  prefixed  to  his  own  cele 
brated  name,  and  supposing  that  it  con 
tained  the  original  of  one  of  his  own  works 
of  art  returned  after  reproduction  for  pub 
lication,  opened  the  package  and  gazed 
first  in  perplexity,  then  in  admiration  at  a 
certain  dashing  style  in  the  "vigorous  brush 
work,"  then  in  astonishment  at  recognizing 
a  portrait  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  and 
finally,  in  utter  bewilderment,  at  seeing 
the  modest  signature  of  his  small  and  be 
loved  wife.  Next,  recovering  his  breath,  he 
465 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

clamored  loudly  for  his  helpmeet.  "  Molly! 
Molly!  come  quick!''  he  called  as  if  some 
thing  had  happened  to  one  of  the  children 
— and  something  assuredly  had.  His  name 
sake  had  been  immortalized. 

Trembling  like  Bluebeard's  wife,  Fred's 
soon  stood  in  his  presence.  The  evidence 
of  her  guilt  was  before  her  eyes,  and  now 
in  her  cheeks. 

"When  did  you  do  it?"  It  was  clear 
from  his  excited  tone  and  the  light  in  his 
eyes  that  her  work  had  found  favor  in  his 
sight. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  did  not  mean 
you  to  know— 

"  Sorry !  Look  at  it.  Why  I  didn't  know 
you  had  it  in  you!" 

"Oh,  it's  just  a  little  thing  I  dashed  off 
in  an  idle  moment 

But  he  did  not  feel  this  thrust.  He  was 
gazing  and  chuckling  with  delight  again 
at  the  canvas.  It  was  not  an  excellent 
portrait  of  Frederic,  Jr.  It  was  some 
thing  better.  It  was  a  baby,  The  Baby,  all 
babies;  bland,  bulging  babyhood  with  its 
466 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

well-fed  arrogance,  its  healthy  individ 
ualism,  its  smug  disdain  of  worry,  its  vo 
luptuous  content;  as  well  as  also,  more 
commonly  portrayed,  often  more  senti 
mentally  piled  on,  its  soft  fragrant  cuddle- 
someness,  so  terrifying  to  most  men,  so  in 
toxicating  to  most  women  (not  all!),  caus 
ing  them  to  beam  and  say,  "Ah!"  in  that 
tone  which  betokens  not  only  maternal 
tenderness  but  a  sort  of  self-satisfied  ex- 
pertness  of  appreciation  to  which  man  can 
never  hope  to  attain. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  it  in  you,"  Fred 
repeated.  There  were  crudities;  it  was  not 
professional  work;  but  it  had  charm,  and 
it  had  the  easy  flowing  confidence  of  vir 
ginal  ignorance.  Fred  knew  too  much 
about  his  job  to  work  so  easily.  "I  wish  I 
could  have  done  that,"  he  said  sincerely. 

"Oh,  don't  be  sarcastic,"  she  answered, 
glowing  at  his  praise,  trying  in  vain  to  con 
ceal  her  joy  of  it.  "So  you're  really  not 
offended  at  my  trying  ? " 

"  Offended  ? "  He  looked  perplexed.  He 
had  forgotten  his  prejudices  for  the  mo- 
467 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

ment.     "  Why,  that's  good  work,  I  tell  you." 
Art,  it  seems,  is  sexless. 

Molly  was  surprised,  a  little  taken  aback. 
Somehow  the  big,  blundering  brutes  do  at 
times  show  a  generous  fairness  which  rather 
shames  and  confuses  the  petty  sex.  We 
have  taught  them  much,  but  not  sportsman 
ship.  But  Fred  had  gone  on,  talking  of  the 
merits  of  the  work  and  some  of  its  demerits, 
to  show  sincerity,  in  the  masterly  manner 
men  talk  shop  to  women,  making  queer 
movements  with  his  thumb  and  head  as 
many  painters  seem  to  feel  relief  in  doing. 
"  And  the  background — the  trellis  frame,  the 
big  leaves — the  kid's  head  against  the  green 
gate.  You  have  the  decorative  instinct, 
Molly,  rare  in  women.  This  sketch  might 
make  a  successful  special  cover  for  a  maga 
zine — reproduce  well,  too.  But,  of  course, 
they  didn't  see  that.  Too  bad  they  re 
turned  it.  I  am  awfully  sorry.  I  remem 
ber  how  it  used  to  be  myself."  He  covered 
it  up  with  its  wrappings,  to  go  on  with  his 
day's  work,  for  man  is  the  wage-earner.  He 
could  be  genuinely  sorry  for  his  wife,  and 
468 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

at  the  same  time  feel  a  slight  pang  of  relief 
for  himself.  He  did  not  mind  other  wom 
en  being  strenuous  and  "artistic" —but 
not  his  Molly.  She  was  his  wife. 

Now  was  her  supreme  moment.  :<They 
had  to  return  it/'  she  said,  casually,  "be 
cause  I  sold  only  the  rights  of  reproduction, 
dear,  just  as  you  do." 

"What!  They  took  it?"  He  forgot 
about  his  day's  work. 

"They  did  not  take  it.  It  took  one  of 
those  prizes  they  offered  for  covers,  for  the 
Baby's  number."  She  said  it  as  if  accus 
tomed  to  doing  such  things. 

"The  prize!     It  took  a  prize?" 

"Only  the  second  prize,"  she  added 
modestly. 

"Why,  that's  the  very  contest  I  told  you 
of — they  asked  me  to  act  as  one  of  the 
judges  in  that  contest." 

"Yes,  dear." 

"  Is  that  why  you  advised  me  not  to  act  ? " 

"Yes,  dear." 

Fred  burst  out  laughing.  It  was  one  of 
those  moments  when  a  husband  realizes 
469 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

that  he  does  not  know  his  wife  so  thor 
oughly  as  he  had  supposed,  and  likes  her 
more  for  it.  It  does  them  both  good,  as  a 
rule. 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  much,"  she  added,  "not 
half  as  much  as  you  get  for  your  things 
you  know." 

"Molly,"  he  declared  after  a  smiling 
pause,  half-jocular,  half-earnest,  "I  always 
said  I  spoiled  a  good  painter  when  I  mar 
ried  you.  Now  I'm  sure  of  it.  But,  you 
would  marry  me." 

Her  smiling  answer  took  him  unawares. 
"I  can  live  it  down,  my  dear,"  she  said  in 
nocently,  pushing  back  her  hair.  "It  is 
not  too  late  yet.  They  have  asked  to  'see 
more  of  my  work." 

The  artist  looked  up  at  his  wife,  artist  no 
longer,  all  husband  now.  Art  may  be  sex 
less,  but  marriage  is  not.  "Do  you  mean, 
you  are  thinking  of  drawing  for  the  maga 
zines — regularly  ? — that  sort  of  thing  ? " 

"Why  not  ?  if  I  can  make  money  at  it." 

The  so-called  civilized  instincts,  dormant 
for  the  moment  in  the  unworldly  artist  en- 
47° 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

thusiasm,  were  now  awakened.  Somehow 
he  could  not  like  it.  He  showed  it  in  his 
scowl.  It  was  not  a  desire  to  absorb  all  her 
time  and  attention,  any  more  than  it  could 
be  jealousy.  He  wanted  her  to  have  more 
time  and  fewer  cares.  He  believed  in 
women's  doing  things — but  not  for  money. 

He  thought  this  due  entirely  to  the  in 
stinct  for  protecting  his  mate.  Perhaps  it 
was,  though  when  carried  to  its  logical  con 
clusion  it  kills  them  as  mates.  He  thought 
that  the  instinct  for  displaying  his  mascu 
line  power  to  protect  her  before  the  gaze  of 
other  males  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Per 
haps  it  hadn't,  consciously,  but  it  may  be 
that  even  artists,  who  see  themselves  upon 
enlightened  heights  far  above  the  burrow- 
ings  and  jostlings  of  the  sordid  horde,  pro 
fessing  to  despise  the  absurd  ideals  of  our 
pecuniary  culture,  sometimes  show  that  they, 
too,  are  tempered  by  the  pecuniary  canons 
of  respectability  derived  therefrom. 

It  is  quite  all  right  to  allow  the  cling 
ing  creatures  to  do  a  little  real  work  now 
and  then,  some  of  them  do  rather  good 
471 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

work,  winning,  even  commanding  the  re 
spect  of  the  superior  sex.  But  they  should 
not  be  paid  for  it.  The  only  thing  they 
should  be  paid  for  is  living  with  a  man. 
Men  will  give  them  as  much  as  they  can 
afford,  or  at  any  rate  as  much  as  they,  in 
their  superior  judgment,  see  fit.  That  is 
the  only  respectable  economic  sphere  for 
the  female.  Others  are  sometimes  neces 
sary,  to  be  sure,  but  they  are  compromises 
with  man's  lofty  ideal  of  womanhood. 
Men  so  decreed  it  when  physical  force  ruled 
the  world,  and  are  doing  their  best  to  per 
petuate  it  while  financial  force  rules  the 
world.  And  women  have  heretofore  ac 
cepted  this  ideal — for  what  else  could  they 
do,  poor  things! — barring  a  few  queer,  un- 
sexed  creatures  whom  (or  which)  we  pity 
or  laugh  at. 

"See  here,  Molly,"  he  said,  smiling,  but 
sympathetically  trying  to  think  in  feminine 
terms,  "are  you — 'unhappy'  ?" 

She  looked  at  his  easel.     "But  are  you?" 
"Oh,  but  that's  different;   I'm  a  man.     I 
have  my  work  to  do  in  the  world." 
472 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

'" Artist5  can  be  either  masculine  or 
feminine — or  neither." 

To  be  sure,  it  was  not  so  bad  as  if  it 
were  law  or  medicine  she  wanted  to  prac 
tise.  He  looked  interested,  amused,  alert, 
and  finally  laughed  indulgently.  They  will 
get  these  crazy  notions  now  and  then,  when 
you  forget  to  kiss  them  or  something.  "So 
the  kids  and  I  aren't  enough,  eh?" 

"Enough!  I  really  don't  feel  the  need  of 
any  more  husbands  or  children." 

He  laughed,  as  she  had  intended  that  he 
should;  but  she  knew  that  he  was  serious 
from  the  slangy  manner  in  which  he  asked: 
"Oh,  come,  wouldn't  you  really  rather  take 
care  of  kids  than  paint  'em  ?" 

Molly  took  a  dance  step  toward  him, 
raised  her  impudent  face  to  his  and  shook  a 
small  capable  finger  under  his  nose,  "Oh, 
but  I  can  do  bothy  you  see,"  and  she  swag 
gered  across  the  room  from  him.  It  was 
the  New  Woman  Rampant — most  adorably 
so. 

Fred  chuckled,  and  catching  her  by  her 
waist,  still  attractively  slender,  kissed  her 

473 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

mouth,  still  eminently  kissable.  For  this 
still  seemed  to  him  the  best  way  to  end  an 
argument  with  a  woman.  He  avoided,  so 
far  as  possible,  arguments  with  other  men's 
wives. 

Molly,  though  a  new  woman,  liked  to  be 
caught  and  kissed  by  the  man  she  loved. 
It  is  said  that  the  soft  yielding  creatures 
seldom  get  over  it.  Perhaps  it  is  not  in 
consistent  with  the  new  womanhood.  For 
it  is  undeniable  that  men,  at  least,  while 
still  given  to  catching  and  kissing  in  robust 
man  fashion,  have  been  known  to  succeed 
in  other  ways  at  the  same  time. 

But  that  did  not  end  the  argument. 
Frederic,  Jr.,  ended  it  by  a  summons  from 
the  throne  room.  Molly  ran  with  cheer 
ful  loyalty.  But  even  that  did  not  settle 
the  question  of  the  proper  limitations  of 
her  sphere.  It  settled  itself,  as  such  things 
usually  do.  .  .  . 

Molly's  triumph  was  to  be  kept  a  secret 
in  the  family  until  the  day  when  it  should 
burst  upon  the  world  in  the  shape  of  the 
magazine  itself,  a  worthy  journal  devoted 

474 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

io    the    interests    of   women,  true  women. 
Molly  did  not  tell  a  soul. 

But  Fred  did.  He  told  everybody,  man 
like.  He  boasted  of  it  to  all  their  friends— 
under  the  transparent  guise  of  merely  tell 
ing  the  joke  upon  himself,  "Why  don't  you 
just  dash  it  off—  '  and  il  Let's  see  you  do 
it" —especially  to  those  who  still  consid 
ered  Molly  merely  a  cunning  little  thing, 
because  she  took  her  clothes  more  seriously 
than  her  clubs.  He  seemed,  indeed,  more 
proud  of  his  wife's  achievements  than  of 
his  first  picture  in  the  Salon  in  his  bachelor 
days. 

It  was  the  money  that  appealed  most  to 
Molly,  the  sordid  little  parasite.  She  was  an 
economic  entity  at  last.  It  made  her  self- 
respecting.  It  gave  her  a  superior,  elated 
sensation.  It  is  not  every  woman  who 
can  be  an  economic  entity.  "It's  the  first 
money  I  ever  earned  in  my  life,"  she  said, 
beginning  on  the  heels  of  the  tenth  pair  of 
stockings. 

"I  see,"  said  Fred,  who  didn't.     He  was 
painting  swingingly  this  morning.     There- 
475 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

fore  he  was  happy.  "Quite  a  capitalist, 
aren't  you  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
it  all?" 

"I  suppose  I  really  ought  to  turn  half  of 
it  over  to  my  husband/'  she  said  demurely. 

"He  might  spend  it  foolishly,"  said  Fred. 
"Husbands  are  so  inexperienced  in  money 
matters." 

"I  think  I  shall  invest  it,"  she  said  seri 
ously.  She  seemed  impressed  with  her  new 
responsibility. 

"Where — or  is  that  something  a  husband 
oughtn't  to  bother  his  little  head  about?" 

"In  the  savings  bank  for  little  Fred. 
You  see,  I  can  have  all  the  glory — except 
what  you  get  as  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Car 
roll.  So  it  is  only  fair  that  he  should  have 
the  money.  He  earned  it.  Besides,  he 
hasn't  a  cent  in  the  world,  poor  darling." 
It  was  too  true.  The  earlier  children, 
whether  namesakes  or  not,  had  fared  pretty 
well  among  grandparents  and  bachelor 
uncles  on  both  sides  of  the  house,  but  tow 
ard  the  end  of  the  string  the  recurrence  of 
new  little  dears  became  an  old  story  and 
476 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

rather  a  drain.  Besides,  there  was  now 
considerable  competition  among  the  vari 
ous  in-laws,  and  even  grandparents  can 
become  blase. 

"Poor  little  chap/'  said  Fred,  "but  you 
will  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  He's  my  name 
sake.  I  will  put  the  proceeds  of  one  of 
these  money-makers  to  his  credit.  You 
must  get  something  pretty  for  yourself  with 
your  wealth.  Nothing  useful,  something 
extravagant.  You  haven't  blown  yourself 
since  we  built  the  house." 

Molly's  darning  needle  worked  in  silence 
for  a  moment.  "I  do  need  a  new  evening 
dress,"  she  began  tentatively,  then  seeing  a 
faint  frown  on  her  husband's  brow — "  Do 
you  think  me  horribly  selfish  ? " 

"Yes,  I've  often  noticed  that,"  he  said 
with  his  nicest  look.  "We'll  go  to  town 
next  week.  I'll  help  you  pick  out  some  de 
cent  clothes." 

They  were  indeed  decent,  and  almost  as 

costly  as  those  of  the  early  days  when  Fred 

had    only    Molly    and    himself    to    clothe. 

"  But  it's  your  own  money,"  urged  Fred, 

477 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

when  the  frugal  habit  of  later  years  knitted 
her  brows.  "You  earned  it.  You  deserve  it/' 

When  the  wonderful  things  at  last  came 
home,  the  bill  with  them  was  receipted. 
Fred  ducked  behind  his  newspaper. 

"  Do  you  think  this  a  fair,  a  manly  thing 
to  do?"  she  asked.  "Was  it  thoughtful? 
Was  it  Christian  ?  Was  it  kind  ? "  All  this 
with  orthodox  interludes  according  to  an 
cient  conjugal  custom. 

"You  needed  some  new  things,"  he  said 
gruffly,  "you  never  would  have  got  decent 
ones  otherwise."  Then  he  turned  to  the 
newspaper  again. 

"It  seems  to  me  I  have  some  rights," 
Molly  complained.  "It's  my  own  money. 
I  earned  it.  I  used  to  think  that  if  I  could 
only  earn  some  for  myself  I  should  not  feel 
so  degraded,  but — -what  will  you  let  me 
spend  it  on?"  She  looked  desperate  and 
determined. 

Fred  liked  the  look.     He  put  down  the 
newspaper,  arose,  approached  and  took  her 
by   the    shoulders.     "What    do   you   want 
most  in  all  the  world  ?" 
478 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

She  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  then  sprang 
off  the  floor  into  his  arms.  "Our  garden 
at  last!" 

"No,  yours.     I've  got  a  tennis  court." 


Nevertheless,  Molly,  though  a  new  wom 
an,  felt  a  little  badly  about  it's  not  being 
our  garden,  until  Fred  made  that  all  right 
by  showing  her  the  plans — he  had  scores  of 
them.  "I  design  it,  and  you  merely  pay 
for  it.  I  have  already  put  in  more  time 
upon  the  job  than  your  money  can  pos 
sibly  cover,  and  I'll  probably  put  in  a  lot 


more." 


(He  did,  as  it  turned  out.  In  fact,  not 
only  Molly's  picture  of  his  namesake,  but 
his  picture  of  her  garden — the  one  she  had 
caught  him  at — went  into  their  out-door 
room.  Even  then  it  did  not  achieve  the 
mellow  charm  of  Fred's  painting.  It  could 
not  expect  to  do  that  for  a  hundred  years. 
But  it  was  a  garden,  and  their  own,  and 
they  loved  it.) 

479 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"You  see  that  is  the  new  way,"  he  had 
gone  on;  "the  new  woman  supplies  the 
money,  tosses  over  a  check  with  an  ab 
stracted  scowl — 'try  to  make  that  last  the 
month  out/  she  says,  and  goes  on  with  her 
more  important  affairs.  The  mere  husband 
supplies  the  time,  taste,  and  attention  to 
petty  details.  Man's  sphere  is  the  garden. 
It  is  all  right.  We  are  merely  a  little  in 
advance  of  our  generation.  That's  all." 

Molly  looked  up  at  him  soberly.  She 
had  derived  an  idea  from  his  fooling.  "It 
doesn't  really  matter  so  much,  which  does 
which,  Fred,  does  it,  so  long  as  they  do 
them  together." 

It  seemed  to  be  a  good  enough  idea  for 
the  present. 


480 


THE  CARROLLS'  FORTUNE 


SCENES :  First  act,  the  House  of  Sterling  and  the  House  of 
Carroll.  Second  act :  The  House  of  Mammon,  and  the 
wicked  but  inspiring  world. 

(A  LOGICAL  CONCLUSION  TO  ALL  THAT  HAS  PRECEDED. 
BY  THE  SIMPLE  AID  OF  THE  " MISTAKEN  IDENTITY"  TRICK 

(DEAR  TO  DRAMATISTS)  VIRTUE  is  EASILY  SHOWN  TO  TRI 
UMPH  INEVITABLY,  AND,  APPLAUDING  AS  THE  CURTAIN  IS 
RUNG  DOWN,  WE  TURN  AWAY  TO  OUR  OWN  SWEET  HOMES.) 


JUST  when  the  affairs  of  "the  Freds" 
were  approaching  a  crisis,  a  sordid  financial 
crisis,  the  enormously  wealthy  Mr.  Sterling 
recurred  in  their  orbit,  like  a  comet,  to 
brighten  their  horizon. 

Mr.  Sterling  had  helped  to  avert  financial 
panics  in  Wall  Street,  but  to  the  Carrolls  he 
was  better  known  as  that  horribly  rich  per 
son  who  had  once  rented  their  house  during 
horse-show  week  at  the  near-by  country  club, 
and  liked  it  so  well  that  he  afterward  sent 
481 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

his  secretary  out  to  buy  it  one  afternoon 
when  not  too  busy  with  other  things.  It 
has  already  been  related  in  these  annals 
how  the  Freds  had  cruelly  refused  to  sell  at 
any  price  because  they  liked  it  so  well 
themselves  and  because  Mr.  Sterling  was 
hardly  worthy  of  such  a  charming  place  as 
theirs.  They  were  painters,  and  he  was  a 
mere  millionaire. 

Now,  some  men  might  have  been  dis 
mayed  by  this  rebuff.  Not  so  Mr.  Ster 
ling.  He  consoled  himself  by  secretly  secur 
ing  options  upon  the  greater  part  of  the 
adjoining  township.  Then  he  let  it  leak 
out  that  he  proposed  to  establish  a  country- 
seat  worthy  of  him  upon  the  most  command 
ing  site  of  all  this  land,  thus  making  a 
market  for  what  he  did  not  want  at  prices 
which  reimbursed  him  for  the  entire  opera 
tion.  So  he  was  now  engaged  upon  the 
amiable  pastime  of  crowning  an  unsuspect 
ing  American  hill  with  an  Italian  villa  whose 
south  fagade  was  almost  as  extensive  as  the 
home  hole  at  the  golf  links,  thus  giving 
honest  employment  to  many  workmen. 
482 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"As  exuberant  and  spectacular  as  the 
Villa  Caprarola,"  said  Molly  Carroll  con 
temptuously. 

"More  so/'  said  Fred,  sniffing  at  the 
many  wide-spreading  terraces,  the  flam 
boyant  redundancy.  "That  man  Peters 
must  be  having  the  time  of  his  life.  He's 
going  to  beat  Vignola  at  his  own  game!" 

Wilson  Peters  had  risen  in  the  world  since 
he  had  been  the  Carrolls'  architect.  He  was 
now  the  Sterlings'  architect. 

It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Sterling  had  never 
heard  of  Caprarola  or  its  designer.  At  any 
rate,  the  Carrolls  derived  a  certain  satisfac 
tion  from  thinking  so.  But  Mr.  Sterling 
would  not  have  cared  a  hang  about  that. 
Why  talk  about  such  things  when  you  have 
the  money  to  buy  them.  Money  talks.  The 
Sterling  place  when  finished  could  be  seen 
from  miles  around  to  be  more  expensive 
than  any  of  the  estates  in  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  it  was  also  clear  that  he  would 
have  spent  even  more  upon  it  if  any  one  had 
told  him  how.  True  architecture  should 
483 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

always  be  an  expression  of  the  individuality 
of  the  builder. 

Well,  having  erected  one  of  the  show- 
places  in  America,  he  now  desired  to  deco 
rate  its  interior  in  such  a  way  that  those 
Americans  and  visiting  foreigners  who  were 
privileged  to  penetrate  the  barocco  entrance 
would  admire  the  owner's  noble  art  of  spar 
ing  no  expense  from  the  inside  point  of 
view.  And  that  is  how  the  painter  and  the 
billionaire  met  again  upon  a  business  basis. 

For  Mr.  Sterling  had  decided  to  have  "a 
symposium  of  leading  American  artists" 
represented  upon  his  walls,  instead  of  im 
porting  foreign  labor  for  the  purpose,  as 
others  of  our  aristocracy  often  do,  on  the 
same  principle  that  they  buy  foreign  titles 
for  their  daughters,  nothing  being  too  good 
for  them.  This  Captain  of  Industry  was  a 
patriot,  and  America  was  good  enough  for 
him,  he  said.  He  believed  in  encouraging 
home  industries.  That  was  how  he  began 
stepping  heavenward  toward  the  dizzy 
heights  of  high  finance. 
484 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

Now,  Frederic  Carroll  was  not  so  well 
known  as  some  of  the  others  on  Mr.  Ster 
ling's  type-written  list,  but  experts  in  such 
matters  had  said  that  he  was  worthy  to 
be  there.  Besides,  Sterling  had  been  im 
pressed  by  the  young  man's  independence 
and  therefore  by  his  pictures;  had  bought 
some  of  them  once,  he  believed;  and  wanted 
to  help  the  poor  artist  along.  He  was  a 
kind  man,  and  wealth  is  a  sacred  trust,  and 
we  are  here  to  help  one  another.  After  all, 
we  have  but  one  life  to  lead. 

Mrs.  Sterling,  it  may  be  added,  observed 
that  the  Carrolls,  notwithstanding  their  lack 
of  outward  and  visible  signs  of  inward  and 
financial  grace,  seemed  to  have  an  effectual 
calling  list.  They  were  popular  among  a 
God-fearing  colony  of  conservative  wealth, 
where  Mrs.  Sterling  proposed  to  be  popular 
too.  Every  little  thing  helps. 

The  Carrolls,  too  unworldly  to  see  any 
such  motive,  were  delighted.  They  thought 
it  spoke  well  not  only  for  their  position  in 
the  world  of  art,  but  especially  for  the 
Sterlings'  taste.  It  was  encouraging  to 
485 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

see  their  fellow-countrymen  making  prog 
ress.  The  Carrolls,  too,  were  patriots. 
Besides,  they  needed  the  money.  The 
children  were  growing  up,  and  seemed  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  they  would  get  an 
education  and  the  other  "advantages"  and 
disadvantages  their  parents  had  received. 

All  the  preliminary  overtures  were  de 
lightful.  The  Sterlings  beamed  upon  the 
Carrolls  and  invited  them  to  dine  in  the 
vast,  new-smelling  house  in  order  to  talk  the 
project  over.  The  Carrolls  beamed  upon 
the  Sterlings  and  graciously  overlooked  the 
fact  that  the  new-comers  had  not  yet  been 
invited  to  dine  at  "The  Meadows,"  as  the 
Carroll  house  was  called  on  their  letter- 
paper  but  never  elsewhere. 

They  admired  the  house  as  much  as  they 
could,  Fred  whispering  to  Molly  as  she  re 
joined  him  after  taking  off  her  wraps, 
"Why,  there's  nothing  very  bad  here." 

Each  side  politely  put  the  other  at  ease 

all    through    the    long,    elaborate    dinner. 

"We  cannot  all  have  the  sacred  trust  of 

wealth,"   was   the   benign   attitude   of  the 

486 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

hosts,  "but  let  us  be  kind  to  those  not  so 
blessed." 

"We  cannot  all  have  birth,  breeding,  and 
a  sense  of  the  beautiful,"  was  the  tactful 
attitude  of  their  guests;  "let  us  keep  them 
from  suspecting  it." 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Sterling  expansively  to 
the  painter,  who  was  lighting  one  of  his 
host's  cigars  with  the  pious  carefulness  of  a 
connoisseur  who  seldom  had  a  chance  at 
such  delicious  ones,  "I'll  show  you  the  little 
room  you  are  to  make  famous."  He  led 
the  way.  "Here  it  is — our  library." 

Fred  raised  his  fastidious  nose.  He  blew 
smoke  in  thoughtful  silence.  He  looked 
about  the  "little  room,"  which  was  even 
more  expansive  than  its  master,  with  the 
critical,  authoritative  air  of  the  expert,  ob 
livious  of  the  owner,  his  millions,  his  power 
— a  master  craftsman  busy  with  his  craft. 
Mr.  Sterling  suddenly  felt  dwarfed  and 
neglected.  He  did  not  like  it  but  it  amused 
him.  He  had  often  felt  this  same  curious 
atmosphere  of  dominance  when  physicians 
and  lawyers  were  summoned  to  his  presence. 
487 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Being  of  the  dominating  sort  himself  he  was 
always  inclined  to  resent  it  though  he  could 
not  have  told  just  why,  for  after  all  had  he 
not  the  money  to  command  their  expert 
services  ?  He  had. 

"It's  a  good  room,"  said  the  painter  with 
eloquent  simplicity.  "Peters  did  a  good 
job  here."  And  he  strode  down  the  centre 
of  the  room  to  get  another  point  of  view. 

"Of  course  it's  a  good  room,"  said  the 
owner  tagging  on  behind  the  expert.  "Now, 
what  I  want  done—  But  Carroll  did  not 
hear,  for  in  his  arrogant  stride  (as  if  he 
owned  the  whole  place)  he  had  stopped 
abruptly.  There  upon  the  wall  hung  a 
celebrated  picture  he  had  heard  of  all  his 
life,  but  had  never  seen  before — an  old  mas 
ter  which  had  recently  found  a  new  one. 
The  artist  forgot  about  the  library,  forgot 
the  ladies  who  had  joined  him  in  it,  even 
forgot  what  he  was  there  for,  as  he  gazed  in 
reverent  silence  at  the  canvas,  and  from  that 
time  forth  owned  it  as  Mr.  Sterling  never 
would  or  could  own  it.  However,  as  he  did 
not  take  it  down  from  the  wall  this  did  not 
488 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

disturb  the  lawful  possessor.  On  the  con 
trary,  the  latter  was  pleased  with  the  paint 
er's  tribute  to  his  prowess.  He  looked  at 
the  picture  himself,  then  at  the  artist,  and 
at  the  picture  again.  It  belonged  to  him. 
He  had  bought  it. 

"Lord!  we  are  lucky  to  have  that  here  in 
the  colony/'  said  Fred  turning  to  his  wife. 
And  he  heaved  a  sigh  of  great  satisfaction. 

"Well,  I  think  we  ought  all  to  .do  our 
little  part  to  encourage  art,"  said  the  ac 
quisitive  genius  modestly.  "And  I  mean 
to  have  only  the  best  here.  Now  let's  get 
down  to  business." 

Mr.  Sterling,  it  seems,  wanted  a  big  alle 
gorical  presentation  of  The  Search  for  Truth 
running  clear  around  the  library  over  the 
books — fine  new  books — all  of  them  latest 
editions. 

Fred  smiled  tactfully  and  suggested  some 
thing  else.  "I  used  to  go  in  for  allegorical 
stunts  when  I  was  young,"  he  said,  "but 
I've  lived  it  down  since." 

The  free  use  of  colloquialisms,  not  to  say 
slang,  on  the  part  of  the  Nicest  people  was 
489 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

always  perplexing  to  the  Sterling  daughters, 
who  had  been  working  nights  to  acquire 
culturine — for  they  had  inherited  the  acquis 
itive  temperament.  Such  flippancy  always 
made  them  blink,  and  in  this  case  it  seemed 
so  incongruous  with  Mr.  Carroll's  lingering 
taint  of  a  Boston  accent.  That  was  not  the 
way  high-life  parts  talked  on  the  stage  or 
in  Irving  Lawton's  stories.  It  is  so  disil 
lusionizing  when  life  is  not  true  to  fiction. 
They  grew  sceptical  of  Mr.  Carroll's  being 
"a  real  artist,"  after  all.  He  had  been  not 
a  bit  absent-minded  during  the  dinner,  re 
membering  to  help  himself  bountifully  as 
each  worthy  course  was  presented.  He 
wore  a  conventional  evening  tie  and  instead 
of  a  Vandyke  beard  he  had  a  charming 
wife. 

But  Mr.  Sterling  had  warmed  to  the 
painter,  for  the  old  man  detested  the  lah- 
de-dah  manner  of  certain  high-brows.  So 
he  too  smiled  tactfully,  but  still  seemed  keen 
for  Truth. 

Fred  stopped  smiling  and  explained  kindly 
but  emphatically  that  if  he  did  anything  at 
490 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

all  it  would  have  to  be  "a  representation  of 
life — not  a  misrepresentation." 

Mr.  Sterling  stopped  smiling  and  sug 
gested  kindly  but  emphatically  that  it  was 
his  library. 

"But  it's  my  work/'  said  the  painter, 
smiling  again. 

This  gave  Mr.  Sterling  pause.  Then  he 
said  "Twenty  thousand  dollars" — the  la 
dies  having  disappeared — and  now  he  too 
srniled  again. 

This  gave  Fred  pause.  Then  he  scowled 
and  threw  up  his  hands.  "Look  here,"  he 
said,  "you'd  better  get  young  De  Courcey 
on  the  job.  He's  a  good  fellow,  and  is 
given  to  doing  searches  for  truth." 

But  Mr.  Sterling  also  scowled,  saying: 
"  You'd  better  sleep  over  it,"  and  the  next 
day  sent  Wilson  Peters,  the  architect,  to 
finish  the  negotiations. 

"  But  you  know  I  don't  believe  in  the  mere 
voluptuous  joy  of  line  and  color  and  design," 
said  Fred  to  Peters.  "When  I  paint  I've 
got  to  say  something — not  merely  smile  and 
look  pleasant." 

491 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Peters  remarked  that  so-and-so,  naming 
a  much  higher  priced  American  decorator, 
was  certainly  saying  something,  and  say 
ing  it  beautifully,  on  the  ceiling  of  Mr.  Ster 
ling's  ballroom.  And  Peters  was  right,  even 
though  Fred  did  sniff  at  his  colleague's  glad 
some  pink  females  in  appropriate  decollete 
evening  clouds. 

"It's  charmingly  done  of  course,"  Fred 
admitted,  "that  chap  couldn't  help  doing 
it  charmingly — only,  to  me  it's  all  as  silly  as 
an  ice-cream  soda-water." 

"  But  the  women  like  it  almost  as  well," 
said  Peters  humorously,  "and  there'll  be  a 
bunch  of  minor  millionaires  after  you  fel 
lows  now.  If  Sterling  takes  you  on  that 
proves  to  them  that  you're  the  real  thing. 
He  has  become  a  patron  of  the  arts." 

"Yes,"  said  Fred.  "He  knows  the  names, 
dates,  and  prices  of  all  the  old  masters." 

"And  can  pay  them  too,"  rejoined  the 
architect — "new  masters  as  well.  This 
seemed  to  me  a  grand  opening  for  your 
future"— for  the  architect  had  suggested 
Fred  to  his  client — "and  twenty  thousand 
492 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

dollars  is  not  bad  to  open  with.     He  told 
me  positively  he  would  not  pay  you  a  cent 


more/3 


"It  looks  big  as  a  house  to  me,"  said 
Fred;  "it  ought  to  get  a  man's  best  work." 

"Oh,  you  could  pull  it  off.  The  old  man 
would  never  know  the  difference." 

"  But  I  should.  So  would  you  and  all  the 
fellows  that  count." 

"Oh,  we'd  never  tell,"  said  the  rival  of 
Vignola.  "The  old  man  has  taken  a  shine 
to  you." 

"But  so  have  I  to  him.  He's  a  real  per 
son.  He  deserves  the  best  there  is  in  the 
market  for  the  price.  I  could  never  give  it 
my  best.  It  isn't  my  sort  of  thing.  You 
had  no  business  recommending  me  in  the 
first  place.  In  fact,  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself." 

"Thanks,  old  man,  thanks.  I  had  an 
idea  I  was  doing  you  a  friendly  turn." 
Peters  dropped  his  eyes.  "We  were  friends 
once,  you  know."  Pete  wanted  to  "patch 
it  all  up." 

"Oh  rot!"  said  Fred,  shrugging  his 
493 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

shoulders,  "you  know  I'm  grateful  to  you, 
and  all  that — but  the  simple  fact  is,  though 
I  didn't  care  to  admit  it  to  Sterling,  De 
Courcey  can  do  that  sort  of  thing  better. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do." 

The  architect  looked  at  his  old  friend  a 
moment  in  quizzical  silence.  "A  magnifi 
cent  gesture,"  he  said,  and  took  his  depart 
ure,  looking  hurt. 

Well,  in  the  end  young  De  Courcey  got 
the  commission,  and  Sterling  got  his  Search 
for  Truth,  running  rampant  all  around  the 
library — a  very  able  piece  of  work  all  the 
same — and  the  pig-headed  painter  got  noth 
ing  but  a  disappointment. 

There  was  no  magnificent  gesture  about 
it.  A  year  previously  Wilson  Peters'  physi 
cian  had  sent  him  to  a  well-known  surgeon 
to  have  his  appendix  removed.  The  physi 
cian  had  often  performed  that  now  simple 
operation  in  his  younger  days  at  the  hospital. 
He  could  have  done  it  again.  There  was 
no  magnificent  gesture  about  that.  Every 
year  some  of  Peters'  own  competitors  turned 
down  thousands  of  dollars  worth  of  work 

494 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

because  it  wasn't  the  kind  of  work  they 
believed  in  doing.  No  gesture  at  all. 

The  colony  however,  when  the  story 
leaked  out,  was  delighted,  for  it  was  a  con 
servative  crowd,  and  resented  the  melo 
dramatic  entrance  of  the  new  billionaire, 
especially  certain  too-conservative  business 
men  who  had  long  cast  thoughtful  glances 
upon  that  fine  tract  of  land.  For  the  tribal 
instinct  is  strong,  and  when  a  young  David 
arises  to  smite  the  encroaching  Philistine, 
we  all  shout  "Hosanna!  Blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord!"  no  matter  what  may 
have  been  our  previous  opinion  of  slings  or 
of  harmless  young  shepherds  that  use  them. 

But  this  did  not  help  the  Carrolls  finan 
cially,  and  the  recurrence  of  Mr.  Sterling  in 
their  orbit  did  not  solve  their  difficulties  in 
the  least.  It  only  explained  them. 


II 

If  no  man  can  serve  two  masters  it  goes 
without  saying  that  two  mistresses  are  still 
more  out  of  the  question,  especially  when 
495 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

one  of  them  is  so  jealous  as  art  is  acknowl 
edged  to  be  by  new  students  at  the  League 
every  year,  and  the  other  so  exacting  as  do 
mesticity  proclaims  itself  even  more  elo 
quently  on  the  first  of  every  month.  It  was 
fine  to  be  appreciated  by  "the  chosen  few/' 
but  that  didn't  pay  the  plumber  or  any 
other  piper.  It  is  commendable  to  cling 
to  high  ideals  but  this  did  not  lower  the 
high  cost  of  living.  It  is  noble  to  be 
true  to  a  heaven-sent  gift,  but  Carroll  had 
heaven-sent  children,  and  numerous  other 
expenses  entailed  by  a  marriage  also  made 
in  heaven  but  exported  to  America. 

Obviously  in  such  a  dilemma  a  man 
should  follow  the  Biblical  injunction — 
"cleave  to  one  and  forsake  the  other." 
Frederic  Carroll  was  undoubtedly  a  better 
painter  than  provider,  so,  on  the  prin 
ciple  of  the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest 
number,  it  would  seem  altruistic — nor  would 
precedent  be  lacking — to  forsake  his  wife 
and  family  and  give  himself  over  entirely 
to  the  Other. 

But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  Carroll,  though 
496 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

now  a  matured  and  thoughtful  citizen,  inter 
ested  in  civic  righteousness,  lacked  this 
broad  racial  view  of  the  matter.  For  he  was 
still  trying  to  be  true  to  both  heavenly 
trusts,  and  thus  was  faithful  to  neither.  He 
loved  his  work,  but  unfortunately  he  loved 
his  family,  too.  So  he  led  a  tortured  ex 
istence,  which  served  him  right  for  keeping 
up  this  iniquitous  dual  life,  but  it  was  hard 
upon  all  three  sides  of  the  triangle — his 
family,  his  work,  and  himself. 

Every  year  now  Fred  and  Molly  gave  up 
a  few  more  of  the  "things  they  were  accus 
tomed  to,"  a  few  more  luxuries  they  had 
once  considered  necessities.  Fred  wore  old 
clothes  to  buy  his  children  new  ones. 
Molly  made  her  own.  That  was  not  hard 
poverty;  merely  hard  luck.  They  were 
working  to  live,  instead  of  living  to  work,  as 
they  had  intended — the  common  lot.  It 
was  not  the  high  cost  of  living,  but  the  cost 
of  high  living  that  was  troubling  the  Ameri 
can  people,  as  was  ably  remarked  by  a  rail 
road  president  when  interviewed  in  his  pri 
vate  car.  But  these  orthodox  sacrifices  in 

497 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  interest  of  the  children  had  begun  to 
tell  upon  the  parents,  and  as  the  children 
were  dependent  upon  the  parents,  it  might 
soon  affect  even  the  children,  for  whom  it 
was  all  supposed  to  be  done.  It  was  a 
goodly  sight  to  behold  Fred  and  Molly 
gaining  character  by  sacrifice,  but  the  chil 
dren  preferred  beefsteak,  being  gross  ma 
terialists.  At  the  present  rate  even  they 
might  have  a  chance,  early  in  life,  to  see 
how  they  liked  Self-abnegation,  Self-sacri 
fice,  and  all  the  other  selfish  things  the 
older  generation  of  Carrolls  were  so  fond 
of  writing  to  Fred  about.  Surely  even 
stern  Aunt  Bella  would  hardly  approve  of 
this  newest  generation's  lending  a  hand  at 
that.  Its  hands  were  too  small. 

But  the  pleasing  picture  of  his  little 
daughter  playing  in  the  sunshine  outside 
the  studio  door  did  not  seem  to  inspire 
Frederic  Carroll  in  the  propei  way,  and  the 
rattle  of  butcher's  carts  coming  up  the 
drive,  with  something  else  to  be  paid  for, 
failed  to  increase  his  capacity  for  work. 
It  only  decreased  his  capacity  for  play. 
498 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

The  boys  did  not  matter  so  much,  but 
when  this  young  female  looked  up  at  him 
with  her  mother's  eyes  and  a  smile  of  femi 
nine  trust  that  her  future  was  in  safe  hands, 
those  skilled  hands  sometimes  shook  so  that 
her  future  began  to  tremble.  The  orthodox 
spur  of  necessity  doesn't  always  work  in 
the  orthodox  way.  Why  should  it  ?  It 
does  not  seem  inevitable  that  a  spirited  race 
horse  should  show  his  best  gait  hitched  to  a 
furniture  van,  however  precious  the  house 
hold  goods  therein  may  be.  .  .  . 

Molly  was  playing  her  proper  part  in  her 
proper  sphere.  She  had  even  tried,  it  may 
be  remembered,  to  break  out  of  her  proper 
sphere.  Other  helpmeets  of  her  acquaint 
ance  were  making  helpful  incomes  as  paint 
ers  or  illustrators.  Some  of  these  were 
women  whom  Molly  had  excelled  when  they 
were  all  girls  together  in  Paris.  But  while 
they  had  been  learning  their  trade  this  wife 
had  given  that  one  up  for  another,  the  an 
cient  and  honorable  trade  of  marriage.  A 
few  of  them  had  managed  to  keep  both  go 
ing  at  once  with  success.  "I'm  afraid  I 

499 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

dropped  out  too  long/'  said  Molly.  "I 
must  have  won  that  prize  on  a  fluke.  I'm 
' just  a  sweet  old-fashioned  wife/'  she 
added,  caricaturing  the  well-known  tone  of 
self-satisfaction.  " That's  what  we  always 
say,  Fred,  when  we  can't  or  won't  be  any 
thing  else." 

But  her  clever  mimicry  sometimes  failed 
to  amuse  him  as  formerly.  He  stared  at 
her  with  impolite  abstraction — an  old-fash 
ioned  woman  at  that,  and  he  a  Carroll! 

"I've  got  an  idea!"  she  exclaimed  with 
sudden  enthusiasm.  "I  can't  help  being  a 
sweet,  old-fashioned  wife,  but  I  can  easily 
stop  being  'a  real  lady.'  '  So  she  reduced 
her  domestic  staff  to  its  lowest  terms,  and 
stopped  "helping  her  husband  in  his  work," 
because  she  had  so  much  of  her  own  to  do. 
The  children  were  not  "bringing  them  to 
gether"  but  pulling  them  apart — just  when 
they  enjoyed  being  together  most  and  were 
profiting  by  it.  ... 

Well,  it  was  bound  to  come  out  all  right 
in  the  end.  Aunt  Bella  said  so,  and  Aunt 
Bella  ought  to  know.  Those  lots  she  had 
500 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

tried  to  sell  many  years  ago  in  the  East  Side 
had  increased  enormously  in  value.  Virtue 
is  always  rewarded,  and  genius  always  tri 
umphs  over  adversity.  Aunt  Bella  said 
that  too.  Genius  that  does  not  triumph 
over  adversity  is  never  heard  of;  therefore 
whoever  heard  of  genius  not  triumphing 
over  adversity  ? 

"I  don't  want  character,  I  want  cash," 
said  Fred  opening  another  letter  from  dear 
Aunt  Bella.  But  this  one  contained  not 
only  sound  advice,  but  a  substantial  check. 
Fred  handed  the  check  over  to  Molly  and 
read  the  long  letter  with  a  disagreeable 
smile. 

"Give  me  back  that  check,"  he  demanded, 
and  writing  a  brief,  but  let  us  hope  consid 
erate,  note  of  thanks  to  his  beloved  aunt, 
he  returned  her  proffered  gift. 

"Well,  I  admire  your  pride,  at  any  rate," 
said  Molly. 

"Yes,  it  will  help  the  children  through  the 
hot  spell,"  replied  her  husband. 

'  Then  why  are  you  returning  the  check  ? " 
asked  Molly. 

501 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Read  her  letter.  It  seems,  she  approves 
of  our  clinging  to  'our  ideals/  and  throw 
ing  down  old  man  Sterling's  tainted  money, 
but  she  stipulates  almost  in  so  many  words 
that  we  are  to  go  to  church  and  take  an 
'active  part'  in  'good  works.'  " 

"The  horrid  old  thing!"  exclaimed  Molly, 
who  had  never  appreciated  Aunt  Bella. 

"Now,  I  shouldn't  mind  going  to  church 
and  having  a  good  loaf  on  Sunday  if  I 
could  afford  the  daylight,  but  I  must  be  too 
religious!  I'd  go  for  a  rest,  but  not  for  a 
bribe." 

Molly  laughed.  Then  she  became  seri 
ous.  "  But  what  are  we  going  to  do  ?  We 
can't  keep  this  up  much  longer." 

"Why,  it's  perfectly  simple,"  said  Fred, 
not  liking  her  worried  expression.  "I'll  go 
back  into  illustrating  again.  Irving  Lawton 
is  rounding  up  a  new  book,  called  'High 
Tide,'  or  'High  Life,'  or  something  of  that 
sort.  I  think  I  can  get  the  job  of  doing  the 
pretty  girls  for  it.  Molly,  there's  nothing 
like  having  a  trade  to  fall  back  upon." 

"It  seems  a  pity,"  sighed  Molly  as  he 
502 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

started  for  town,  "that  you  should  have  to 
go  back  to  that  sort  of  thing — at  your  time 
of  life." 

"I  ought  never  to  have  gone  out  of  it," 
mused  Fred  on  the  train. 

Now,  it  would  be  a  shame  to  leave  the 
impression  that  the  hero  of  these  annals — 
an  American  hero  at  that — had  failed  to 
make  money,  even  as  a  painter.  It  would 
be  so  disillusionizing.  Let  us  make  him  a 
noble  hero  at  once  by  showing  clearly  that 
he  made  a  great  deal;  not  so  much  as  some 
other  painters  who  did  more  popular  work, 
or  (must  it  be  admitted  ?)  better  work,  or 
even  both!  All  the  same,  this  honest  day- 
laborer,  without  taking  toll  of  the  labor  of 
others,  actually  earned  more  than  some  of 
us  who  are  blessed  by  the  Lord  with  great 
possessions,  giving  tithes  to  the  poor  and 
thanking  God  that  we  are  not  as  that  man. 

For,  however  unbusinesslike  Fred  may 
have  been  during  the  process  of  conceiving 
and  producing  his  wares  for  the  market, 
alone  in  his  silent  studio,  removed  from  the 
hum  of  competition  and  progress,  he  needed 
503 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

no  guardian  when  it  came  to  disposing  of 
his  finished  output.  He  had  inherited  his 
share  of  Yankee  shrewdness  along  with  the 
less  profitable  New  England  conscience. 
There  were  enough  of  the  chosen  few  to 
pay  him  the  high  prices  he  exacted  for  his 
works  of  genius,  grinding  the  faces  of  the 
rich,  according  to  the  laws  of  supply  and 
demand.  He  could  not  exploit  the  poor, 
even  if  he  wanted  to.  He  could  only  up 
lift  the  affluent.  He  could  not  employ  un 
derlings  in  his  one-man  plant.  He  had  to 
operate  his  factory  all  alone,  or  not  at  all. 
Nor  could  he  run  day  and  night  shifts, 
because  he  needed  daylight  to  work  in  and 
nights  for  sleep. 

As  a  painter  he  could  not  take  advantage 
of  "the  capitalistic  system."  He  had  done 
so  as  an  illustrator.  Once  upon  a  time, 
seeing  Irving  Lawton  glide  by  in  a  limou 
sine  acquired  by  royalties  from  his  interest 
ing  volumes  about  the  'Rich/  Fred  having 
just  acquired  a  baby-carriage  and  feeling 
poor,  went  to  Horace  Beck,  already  known 
as  "that  live  young  publisher/'  and  sug- 
504 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

gested  that  a  picture-book  called  "The 
Carroll  Girl"  might  go.  It  went,  and  was 
followed  by  a  calendar  or  two,  thus  exploit 
ing  schools  for  refined  young  ladies  and 
colleges  for  raucous  young  men.  Rare 
copies  may  still  be  found  here  and  there, 
displaying  such  archaic  sleeves,  such  obso 
lete  hair  arrangement  that  most  of  these 
frayed  quartos  have  been  relegated  to  nurs 
eries  presided  over  by  those  former  school 
girls  and  provided  for  by  those  former  col 
lege  youths.  Fred's  royalties  had  helped 
found  his  own  happy  home  and  Molly's 
sunny  nurseries.  Therefore,  had  he  any 
right  to  question  the  justice  of  the  capitalis 
tic  system  ?  He  never  dreamed  of  doing  so. 
He  wasn't  interested  in  muck-raking. 

But  while  he  could  not  take  advantage  of 
the  capitalistic  system  as  a  painter,  it  kept 
right  on  taking  advantage  of  him  as  a  pro 
vider.  In  short,  this  able-bodied  man,  like 
all  other  day-laborers  (the  only  true  indi 
vidualists)  was  helping  to  support  the 
families  of  those  blessed  by  the  Lord — 
with  the  aid  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
505 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

United  States,  which  can  do  no  wrong. 
Now,  this  seems  a  good  deal  to  ask  of  an 
impractical  painter  who  had  a  good-sized 
family  of  his  own  to  support,  even  though 
he  did  believe  in  "letting  good  enough 
alone." 

Moreover,  it  hardly  seems  "practical." 
Mr.  Sterling,  for  instance,  was  able  to  sup 
port  himself.  He  actually  did  so.  Unlike 
certain  members  of  a  conservative  colony, 
whose  wives  had  been  looking  forward  with 
secret  pleasure  to  snubbing  Mrs.  Sterling — 
though  they  were  called  off  from  this  ami 
able  intention  and  made  to  receive  the 
newcomers  cordially,  because  their  pro 
viders  had  shrewdly  invested  in  the  "Ster 
ling  Interests"  —unlike  some  of  these  repre 
sentatives  of  old  substantial  wealth,  this 
new-rich  man  actually  earned  a  good  deal 
of  what  he  got;  maybe  twenty  per  cent., 
let  us  say  fifteen  per  cent.,  at  any  rate; 
which  would  have  netted  him  a  million  or 
so  a  year,  and  that  is  not  a  bad  income  even 
for  commercial  geniuses  to  earn.  He  de 
served  more  by  his  country  than  did  Fred 
506 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

and  was  getting  it.  For  Mr.  Sterling's 
business  ability  was  not  "a  mere  low  order 
of  cunning"  as  it  has  been  called  by  some 
visionary  professor  who  must  be  envious; 
Mr.  Sterling's  was  a  high  order  of  intelli 
gence,  combined  with  courage,  imagination, 
and  bewildering  resourcefulness.  He,  too, 
was  creative.  He  was  an  empire  builder, 
a  dreamer,  like  all  great  men.  That  must 
have  been  why  he  and  Fred  instinctively 
took  to  each  other.  They  say  great  men 
always  recognize  and  respect  each  other's 
greatness. 

But,  unlike  Fred,  he  was  making  his 
dreams  come  true;  for  his  were  the  talents 
cherished  and  protected,  like  wives,  by  our 
economic  and  social  arrangements,  which 
husband  them.  Whereas  Fred  had  to  work 
out  his  dreams  alone,  despite  handicaps 
and  hinderances.  It  is,  of  course,  a  free 
country  and  a  man  need  not  eat  if  he  doesn't 
want  to,  but  Fred  and  family  wanted  to, 
and  bought  at  least  eighteen  meals  a  day 
whether  work  went  well  every  day  or  not. 

It  is  a  free  country,  so  Sterling  et  al.  were 
507 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

not  obliged  to  buy  Fred's  products  unless 
they  wanted  to.  Art  is  a  mere  luxury,  like 
diamond  studs.  Well,  even  so,  Fred  had 
made  them  want  to.  For  he  too  was  an 
able  and  industrious  man  and  worked  fully 
as  hard  as  the  Mr.  Sterlings — though  they 
would  never  believe  it.  In  short,  they  paid 
his  prices,  he  paid  theirs,  and  he  might 
have  kept  on  doing  so,  saying  "the  measure 
of  success  is  not  the  amount  of  money  one 
makes,"  but  for  an  insuperable  difficulty, 
foreshadowed  by  all  that  has  been  related 
previously  in  these  veracious  annals:  Fred 
had  exhausted  his  capital;  just  when  the 
demand  for  his  products  had  become  greater 
than  the  supply;  just  when  he  was  dream 
ing  dreams  for  wonderful  work  in  his  ma 
tured  efficiency,  work  calculated  to  set  the 
world  on  fire,  as  could  be  proved  by  Molly, 
who  understood  these  dreams  and  approved 
of  them. 

This  exhaustion  of  capital  has  little  refer 
ence    to    mere    money.     He    did   not   need 
much  money  to  operate  his  plant  success 
fully;    merely  enough  to  meet  current  per- 
508 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

sonal  expenses.  A  lot  of  money  would 
have  been  a  nuisance  to  him,  like  having 
more  food  than  he  could  conveniently  eat. 
You  can't  do  good  work  if  you  have  to  stop 
and  eat  all  the  time  and  to  store  supplies 
away  in  the  refrigerator. 

There  are  three  prerequisites  for  the 
successful  conduct  of  a  harmless  industry 
like  his — machinery,  steam,  and  raw  ma 
terial.  He  was  still  young  enough  to  have 
plenty  of  steam.  He  had  perfected  an  effi 
cient  machine  of  the  well-known  Carroll 
model.  But  he  had  very  little  left  by  this 
time  to  dump  into  the  hopper. 

Those  who  do  not  understand  the  ap 
parently  simple  piece-work  of  a  sweat-shop 
like  Fred's,  seem  to  think  that  all  a  painter 
has  to  do  is  to  sit  under  a  white  umbrella 
before  a  "view"  and  copy  it,  smoking  a  pipe 
picturesquely  and  chatting  humorously  with 
the  natives  who  look  over  his  shoulder  and 
say:  "Well,  I  know  what  I  like,  anyway." 
But  as  a  matter  of  every-day  practical,  tem 
peramental  fact,  even  the  painting  of  corn- 
shocks  bears  evidence  of  the  mountains  the 
5°9 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

painter  has,  or  has  not,  sketched  and  climbed, 
and  "communed"  with;  of  the  walks  and 
talks  on  and  about  them  with  others  of  his 
craft  who  speak  his  own  peculiar  language. 
What  a  man  does  in  his  studio  is  but  a 
rendering  of  what  he  gets  outside. 

Every  year  Fred  had  been  getting  less 
outside.  Every  year  he  had  more  to  pay 
but  less  to  say.  He  had  used  up  his  ideas; 
he  could  not  stop  to  get  new  ones.  So 
journs  abroad  to  study  the  foreign  schools 
had  been  abandoned  long  ago  to  pay  for 
the  children's  schools  at  home;  sketching 
trips  to  wild  and  rocky  headlands  had  gone 
into  summer  trips  to  tame  and  safe  sea 
shores.  Meanwhile  his  critical  faculties  had 
continued  to  develop,  unfortunately,  until 
now  they  were  far  ahead  of  his  capacity 
for  creation.  He  had  to  build  his  creations 
up  from  meagre  remembered  suggestions, 
somewrhat  as  a  paleontologist  constructs 
prehistoric  mammals  from  the  fossil  im 
prints  of  a  left  hind  foot.  Most  of  Fred's 
canvases  he  now  hid  aw;ay  in  portfolios, 
hoping  some  day  to  have  the  leisure  and 
510 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

exuberance  to  breathe  the  glow  of  life  into 
them.  He  might  have  sold  them  on  his 
reputation,  but  he  knew  they  were  not  good, 
and  did  not  try  to  sell  them.  He  was  at 
one  of  those  appalling  periods  in  the  career 
of  many  a  painter,  when  he  feels  that  the 
end  has  come.  Everything  since  and  in 
cluding  his  marriage  apparently  led  to  this 
result.  Mild  extravagance  and  mistakes 
of  judgment  hastened  the  day  but  did  not 
cause  it. 

Ill 

Horace  Beck,  the  live  young  publisher, 
said:  "Sure — delighted!  We  didn't  sup 
pose  you'd  deign  to  touch  it." 

"Well,  I  come  high,"  said  Fred. 

"I  think  there'll  be  no  difficulty  in  meet 
ing  your  price,"  said  the  publisher.  "Fred, 
you  know  I've  always  said  that  you  were  a 
chump  not  to  sail  in  and  take  it  away  from 
these  cheap  skates  who  are  making  thou 
sands  with  their  pert-faced,  empty-nozzled 
matinee  girls.  Now  there's  some  class  about 
your  work." 

5" 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"Thanks/'  said  Fred. 

"'  You  and  Irving  used  to  make  a  winning 
combination.  This  new  school  of  artists 
don't  know  the  real  thing  when  they  see  it; 
and  most  of  them  never  see  it — except  at 
long  range." 

"Thanks,"  said  Fred;  "I'll  try  to  live 
up  to  Irving." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right  as  high-brow's  sar 
casm,  but  Irving  delivers  the  goods.  He 
makes  more  out  of  me  than  I  make  out  of 
him — and  I  got  over  my  high-brow  notions 
before  I'd  been  out  of  college  three  years. 
Ideals  are  all  right  but  they  don't  pay  bills." 

"You're  right,"  said  Fred.  .  .  . 

The  Carrolls  were  now  so  hard  up  that 
Molly  acted  as  Fred's  model  for  the  illus 
trations—  "Though  my  gowns  aren't  just 
right,"  she  said  smiling. 

"But  we  can  fake  the  latest  fashions 
from  these  Parisian  magazines,"  said  Fred. 

She  had  to  neglect  her  children  to  do  this, 

but  then  the  actual  old-fashioned  mother 

did   not   dream   of  taking   such   fastidious 

care  of  her  children  as  the  much-maligned 

512 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLb 

modern  mother  does.  So  it  must  have  been 
all  right. 

"  I'm  going  to  make  a  good  thing  of  this/' 
said  Fred  working  hard.  "I'm  going  to 
show  those  cocky  kids  how  to  draw  real 
women,  with  bones  inside  of  their  bodies 
and  souls  inside  of  their  eyes." 

"It's  the  artist  in  him/'  thought  Molly, 
though  she  sighed  to  think  of  the  amount 
of  time  he  was  spending  on  these  pot 
boilers.  And  yet  it  wasn't  the  artist  in 
Molly  that  made  her  want  to  put  an  untidy 
room  to  rights  whenever  she  saw  one,  even 
in  other  people's  homes.  Nor  is  it  the 
artist  in  carpenters,  including  some  union 
carpenters,  that  make  them  prefer  to  "fin 
ish  up  the  job  right."  Fred  was  a  skilled 
amateur  carpenter  himself.  Perhaps  it  was 
merely  the  carpenter  in  him.  More  likely 
it  was  the  normal  human  craving,  slightly 
exaggerated  perhaps  by  habit,  to  make 
good  things  better.  It  isn't  even  confined 
to  humans.  Birds  and  beasts  have  the 
same  proclivity — though  to  be  sure  in  man 
it  is  sometimes  perverted  by  the  pecuniary 
513 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

consideration  which  we  have  begun  to  ac 
cept  axiomatically  as  the  only  kind  of  ef 
fective  "  competition."  It  is  so  perverted, 
indeed,  that  even  when  men  like  brother 
Archie  go  in  for  civic  house-cleaning  their 
motives  are  apt  to  be  questioned  cynically. 
Work,  which  is  as  natural  in  a  world  made 
by  and  for  it  as  eating,  has  been  turned 
into  drudgery  for  so  many  people  for  so 
long  a  time  that  the  Hebraic  slave  concep 
tion  of  heaven  has  become  a  loafing  place 
with  expensive  furniture  and  a  decorative 
scheme  so  garrish  that  it  would  drive  fastid 
ious  Fred  Carroll  to  some  other  place. 

Well,  Fred's  drawings  were  returned. 
"The  public  doesn't  want  character,"  said 
Horace,  "it  wants  clothes."  He  begged 
Fred  to  get  a  new  model — one  that  looks 
joyous,  like  a  well-bred  school  girl  at  a  dance. 
That's  what  the  public  wants.  They  don't 
want  to  think.  They  want  to  forget.  Give 
us  something  in  your  old  manner." 

Fred  redrew  his  girls.  He  attempted  to 
imitate  his  former  self— a  most  difficult 
thing  to  do.  It  is  still  more  difficult  to 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

give  an  illusion  of  youth  and  joy  when  one 
is  feeling  desperate,  though  many  have  to 
do  it  every  night  of  their  lives.  Fred  made 
a  valiant  effort,  but  the  former  charm  was 
gone.  The  urban  touch  had  become  sub 
urban.  He  had  not  done  figure  work  of 
late.  Models  were  scarce  in  the  country. 
.  .  .  The  drawings  were  declined.  One 
of  the  new  "cocky  kids"  got  the  job  of  illus 
trating  Irving's  best  seller. 

Molly  was  aghast.  "The  audacity  of 
them!  declining  work  of  yours  when  they 
have  a  chance  at  it!" 

"Well,  they  aren't  in  business  for  their 
health,"  said  Fred  trying  to  hide  his  cha 
grin,  "they've  got  to  publish  'what  the 
public  wants.'  And  the  public  wants  to  for 
get.  Among  other  things,  they  have  for 
gotten  me,  I  fancy.  My  little  reputation  as 
a  painter  doesn't  help  much  with  the  people 
who  read  Irving's  stories.  I'm  like  you, 
Molly,  I  dropped  out  too  long.  I'm  afraid 
I've  lost  the  hang  of  doing  black  and  white." 

This  was  doubtless  true.  The  work  of 
the  cocky  kid,  a  by  no  means  cheap  skate, 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

was  better  than  Fred's,  though  neither  of 
the  Carrolls  would  admit  it. 

Each  tried  to  make  light  of  it  to  deceive 
the  other.  Even  this  did  not  succeed. 
They  were  too  well  acquainted  by  this 
time. 

Said  Molly,  "  I  can't  be  a  model  wife,  or 
even  a  wife-model."  She  laughed  and 
patted  his  shoulder.  "All  the  same,  I  ad 
mire  you  for  despising  popularity." 

"But  I  don't  despise  it,  I  love  it,"  said 
Fred.  "It  would  be  lots  of  fun  to  have 
the  girls  along  the  avenue  point  me  out 
again  and  say,  'That's  Frederic  Carroll.'  ' 

"Which  is  it  you  love — that  or  the  pretty 
girls  ? "  asked  Molly  teasingly. 

"Both,"  he  answered.  "When  I  get  old 
enough  not  to  get  excited  at  a  pretty  face 
or  a  racing  fire-engine,  I  want  to  die — if — • 
that  is — "  with  a  glance  at  his  sturdy  chil 
dren  playing  in  the  twilight  outside — "if 
I  can  afford  it." 

"All   right,"    said   Molly,    ignoring  that 
last  touch,  "so  long  as  you  don't  tell  any 
of  the  others  that  you  love  them." 
516 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"Why  not?"  he  rejoined.  "As  for  you, 
you  know  it  already — I  don't  have  to  tell 
you." 

"So  I've  noticed,"  said  Molly.  "Come 
along,  its  time  to  dress  for  dinner."  For 
they  still  dined  in  state  even  though  their 
meals  were  becoming  meagre.  She  called 
the  children  in,  and  remarked  to  Fred: 
"Let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to 
morrow  we  live." 

It  is  commendable  to  be  facetious  about 
our  troubles,  but  that  does  not  cure  them. 
It  is  much  easier  to  be  humorous  about 
them  after  they  are  safely  over.  The  Car- 
rolls  kept  this  gayety  going  for  a  while,  but 
the  children  in  the  mean  time  kept  on  eat 
ing.  The  habit  had  grown  upon  them. 

Now  that  Fred  was  failing,  both  as  a 
painter  and  a  provider,  married  life  be 
came  a  confused  disillusionment,  home  a 
place  to  get  away  from  as  often  as  he  con 
scientiously  could.  But  as  he  conscien 
tiously  couldn't  very  often,  he  stayed  at 
home  and  became  a  nuisance  to  every  one 
in  it.  The  children  were  no  longer  a  joy 
517 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

to  him.  When  they  came  "romping"  into 
the  studio,  after  the  orthodox  manner  of 
"little  tots,"  with  the  smiling  approval  all 
children,  dogs,  and  old  ladies  bestow  upon 
men  of  his  type,  Fred  trying  to  paint  while 
knowing  he  couldn't,  turned  upon  them 
like  a  traitor  and  drove  them  out  with  loud 
rage.  And  once  when  Molly  flew  to  their 
rescue,  he  turned  on  her.  .  .  .  After  that 
she  would  never  be  able  to  say,  as  some 
weeping  widows  do:  "He  never  spoke  a 
cross  word  to  me!"  These  two  had  lived 
together  all  this  time  without  a  single  vulgar 
row.  Well,  it's  never  too  late  to  learn. 

Now,  it  would  be  too  bad  if,  after  taking 
all  the  trouble  to  study  an  honest  trade, 
and  to  slight  it  honorably  for  marriage;  to 
master  that  difficult  art  also,  to  build  a 
house  and  have  it  find  itself,  to  beget  a 
brood  of  children  and  have  them  well 
started — if  then  the  whole  edifice  of  a  happy 
home,  a  good  clean  unit  of  the  State,  were 
to  go  to  smash,  spoiling  not  merely  the 
work  in  the  world  this  man  was  born  for, 
but,  most  unkindly  of  all,  the  lives  of  those 
518 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

born  to  him  and  for  whom  he  had  slighted 
his  work!  That  would  be  rubbing  it  in. 
It  would  seem  such  a  sheer  waste  of  good 
horse-power,  efficient  usefulness,  and,  alas! 
even  character. 

One  would  suppose  that  in  the  case  of 
worthy  couples  like  the  Carrolls,  doing  the 
right  thing  in  the  right  way;  stanch  up 
holders  of  our  best  institutions,  yet  valiantly 
shedding  their  cunning  little  caste  preju 
dices;  professed  optimists,  yet  doggedly 
trying  to  maintain  a  family  and  a  sense  of 
humor  at  the  same  time;  meeting  poverty 
together  bravely,  yet  stubbornly  ignoring  the 
fact  that  if  they  had  not  come  together  they 
need  not  have  met  it  at  all — in  such  cases 
surely  we  have  a  reasonable  right  to  expect, 
or  at  any  rate  a  sentimental  habit  of  de 
manding,  that  the  ordinary  arrangement  of 
cause  and  effect  should  be  suspended. 

And  yet  nature's  law  of  the  survival  of 
the  fittest  ought  to  be  inexorable.  For 
how  otherwise  can  we  hope  for  justice  or 
any  sound  optimistic  philosophy  ?  True, 
the  ravens  fed  Elijah  in  the  wilderness. 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

But  we  have  changed  all  that  since  then 
The  wilderness  has  been  taken  over  by  the 
Sterlings,  has  been  made  to  bloom  by  the 
corporations.  The  natural  resources  of  the 
earth  which  God  gave  to  man,  man  has 
given  to  men  by  due  process  of  law  for  the 
larger  good.  If  the  chirping  Carrolls  were  to 
be  fed  by  any  ravens,  the  latter  would  have 
to  raid  cold  storage  warehouses  and  thus 
cut  in  upon  the  divine  right  of  dividends. 

Aunt  Bella  still  believed  that  the  Lord 
would  not  forsake  them  that  feared  him. 
Witness  the  case  of  Joshua  who  needed  a 
few  more  hours  daylight  for  the  worthy 
purpose  of  slaying  some  more  of  his  fellow- 
men.  Possibly  the  war-correspondent's 
despatch  got  by  the  censor.  The  report 
must  have  been  grossly  exaggerated.  It  is 
so  irreverent  to  believe  in  a  kinder,  juster 
God  who  does  not  break  His  own  laws, 
giving  us  eyes  to  search  them,  intelligence 
enough  to  understand  some  of  them,  and 
capacity  to  formulate  our  own  accordingly. 
If  we  have  defied  or  amended  His  law  so 
as  to  read:  "The  survival  of  the  fittest  for 
520 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

getting  money,"  it  is  surely  quite  orthodox 
to  request  Him  to  change  what  we  have 
wrought.  But  it  would  not  be  upheld  by 
the  Supreme  Court.  Somebody  had  to 
earn  even  Aunt  Bella's  unearned  increment. 
Nowadays  money  does  not  descend  from 
heaven  like  manna.  Some  of  Aunt  Bella's 
fortune  was  earned  by  African  traders  and 
African  slaves;  not  all  of  it  could  have  been 
earned  by  the  business  acumen  of  that 
shrewd  ancestor  (only  by  marriage)  who 
had  manufactured  Medford  rum.  Other 
more  or  less  honest  traders  and  other  more 
or  less  free  slaves  were  doubling  and  trip 
ling  her  fortune  now  in  the  slums. 

No,  a  wiser  and  more  practical  course, 
one  more  in  accord  with  our  institutions, 
would  be  to  make  statutes  compelling  every 
one  to  be  fit  for  making,  or  at  least  getting, 
money,  or  else  prevent  them  from  making 
marriages  and  begetting  children,  thus  re 
producing  their  unfit  species — four  little 
Carrolls,  for  instance,  all  possibly  deficient 
in  the  commercial  instinct,  each  very  likely 
susceptible  of  marriage  when  the  time  came. 
521 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

To  be  sure,  we  are  doing  our  best,  with 
out  the  aid  of  written  laws.  Law,  we  are 
told,  is  merely  the  established  habit  of 
the  community.  Despite  the  handicap  of 
baccalaureate  sermons,  greater  proportions 
of  the  youth  of  our  land  every  year  are 
wisely  casting  aside  false  ideas  with  their 
graduating  gowns,  in  accordance  with  the 
unwritten  law — "  Seek  ye  first  the  king 
dom  of  Wealth  and  its  affluence  and  all 
else  shall  be  added  unto  you."  (See  almost 
any  class  triennial  record.)  For  they  are 
taught  now  from  the  cradle  that  "Man's 
chief  end  is  to  glorify  Capital  and  enjoy  It 
forever." 

Every  year,  likewise,  the  proportion  of 
dreary  boarding-houses  increases,  and  the 
building  of  more  or  less  chaste  bachelor 
apartments  is  a  flourishing  industry.  Al 
ready  one  woman  in  every  seven,  with  or 
without  a  hungry  heart,  gains  a  livelihood 
by  some  other  means  than  marriage,  de 
spite  our  best  efforts  to  push  back  these  sex 
less  creatures  into  their  true  spheres  by 
underpaying  them. 

522 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

And  as  for  children,  despite  the  altruistic 
advice  of  Kaisers  and  their  friends,  the 
family— that  is  the  "nice"  family — is  rap 
idly  dwindling  throughout  our  entire  civil 
ized  world.  In  our  country,  according  to 
unpleasant  statistics,  the  old  American  stock 
will  soon  have  disappeared  entirely.  We 
breed  most  of  our  consumers  abroad  now, 
or  among  the  "lower  classes"  who  have 
immigrated  from  abroad.  The  "intelligent 
classes"  do  not  seem  to  like  the  prospect  of 
their,  children  or  their  children's  children 
becoming  commercial  or  domestic  servants 
to  the  Sterlings'  children.  It  is  selfish. 
They  ought  to  get  a  racial  sense.  The 
way  to  bring  it  about  is  by  handing  each 
individual  a  higher  ideal.  That  is  the  way 
the  church  has  cured  the  evils  of  corporate 
wealth. 

But  Fred  Carroll  was  at  last  beginning  to 
realize  that  he  had  committed  the  unpar 
donable  sin.  He  had  blasphemed  against 
the  unholy  ghost  which  haunts  so  many  of 
our  homes.  Sin  is  any  want  of  conformity 
unto  or  transgression  of  the  law  of  Wealth. 
523 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

And  Fred,  poor  hopeless  sinner,  had  cursed 
money.  He  who  does  not  worship  the 
golden  calf  shall  surely  be  trodden  beneath 
its  cloven  hoof. 

Well,  now  that  he  had  been  converted,  he 
went  to  brother  Archie  to  confess,  hoping 
piously  for  absolution. 


IV 

Fred  found  his  brother  scowlingly  busy 
in  one  of  our  huge,  modern  law  offices  oc 
cupying  a  whole  floor  in  a  tall  sky-scraper 
and  employing  numerous  alert  underlings 
with  very  intelligent  faces  and  extremely 
polite  manners.  The  caller  had  to  wait 
his  turn.  Then  Archie  saluted  his  brother 
with  the  cordial:  "Well,  what-can-I-do-for- 
you"  briskness  of  a  man  of  affairs — kind, 
though  incisive. 

Fred  was  businesslike  enough  to  go 
straight  to  the  point.  "Archie,  do  you 
recall  the  time  years  ago  when  I  skipped 
out  to  Paris,  instead  of  'accepting  a  posi 
tion'  Uncle  Thomas  offered  me  in  his  bank  ? 
524 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

You  said  I  was  a  fool.  I  said  I  would  show 
you.  Well,  I've  come  to  say  that  you  were 
right/' 

This  was  really  too  straight  to  the  point. 
Those  who  come  to  lawyers  for  advice 
seldom  state  their  cases  so  succinctly.  The 
legal  mind  was  perplexed.  "What  the 
devil!"  said  Archie,  not  being  in  his  Sun 
day-school  class,  where  they  believe  in  the 
devil,  but  in  Wall  Street,  where  they 
don't. 

Fred  smiled  drolly  and  shrugged  his 
broad  shoulders.  "I'm  thinking  of  'drift 
ing  into  money-making,'  as  father  used  to 
call  it.  Just  how  does  one  go  about  it, 
please?" 

Archie  looked  at  his  brother  a  moment, 
then  burst  out  laughing.  "  Ton  ?  in  busi 
ness!"  The  elder  raised  his  scowling  eye 
brows.  "Are  you  crazy?" 

"Pretty  nearly.  Or  else,  I'm  just  coming 
to  my  senses.  Rather  late  in  life,  I  sup 
pose — not  too  late,  I  hope." 

Archie,  able  lawyer,  experienced  in  re 
ceiving  confidences,  trained  for  piercing 
525 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE   OF 

below  the  surface  to  the  essentials  of  things, 
detected  a  basis  of  seriousness  under  Fred's 
flippancy.  Fred  was  not  feeling  very  flip 
pant!  Still,  we  should  hardly  expect  him 
to  say,  "Please  be  sorry  for  me."  He  was 
not  given  to  telling  hard-luck  stories. 

The  elder  brother  had  understood  vaguely 
that  affairs  had  not  been  going  altogether 
well  at  The  Meadows.  He  had  been  tempted 
more  than  once  to  supplement  business 
advice  with  financial  aid;  would  have  done 
so,  but  for  his  younger  brother's  foolish 
pride,  for  which  Archie  had  a  frank  admira 
tion.  He  and  his  wife,  the  pink  and  placid 
Julia,  often  joked  among  their  intimates 
about  the  artistic  wing  of  the  distinguished 
House,  its  happy-go-lucky  life  in  the  coun 
try;  its  self-centred  narrowness;  its  pictu 
resque  ups  and  downs,  and  its  humorous 
aptitude  for  finally  arriving  safely,  like  a 
well-crated  picture — "this  side  up  with 
care."  .  .  .  Therefore  the  more  aston 
ishing,  this  sudden  announcement  of  sur 
render.  Fred  was  too  temperamental. 

"Oh,  come!"  said  the  acting  head  of  the 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

house,  not  unsympathetically.  "What's  it 
all  about  ?  You're  all  right." 

"Then  everything  else  is  all  wrong." 

"Oh,  there  are  other  things  than  money. 
You  mustn't  grab  at  fame  and  fortune 
both.  Why  be  a  hog?" 

"I  don't  think  I've  been  a  hog  exactly — 
not  so's  you'd  notice  it,"  said  the  painter 
with  that  shrug  of  the  shoulders  which  still 
seemed  to  all  the  other  Carrolls  "Parisian" 
enough  to  annoy  them.  It  was  not  "like 
us"  as  e  timable  Aunt  Bella  used  to  say. 
Fred  added,  "There  may  be  other  things 
than  money,  just  as  there  are  other  things 
than  air — but  you  can't  get  any  of  them 
without  it;  not  even  this  fame  business  you 
mention.  I  haven't  been  bothering  about 
fame  much  lately,  Archie." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  get  so  easily  discour 
aged.  Every  man  has  his  early  struggles 
for  recognition.  He  can't  become  a  man 
otherwise.  Don't  give  up  your  ideals!" 

"Where  have  I  heard  all  that  before?" 
Fred  mused  aloud,  with  a  slightly  sarcastic 
smile.  "I  had  my  early  struggles  all  right. 
527 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

I  had  them  early.  There's  no  kick  coming 
about  recognition.  I've  had  all  I  deserve 
of  that  too." 

"Of  course,  you  have/'  rejoined  Archie, 
changing  his  first  tone  to  a  very  agreeable 
one.  "Why,  only  last  evening  at  the  Cen 
tury  that  distinguished  French  portrait 
painter — what's  his  name  ?  that  visiting 
Academician — said  to  me,  'Ah,  so  you  are 
a  brother  of  Frederic  Carroll?'  You  seel 
had  been  bragging  about  it.  I  always  do! 
'What  has  become  of  your  brother?  He 
used  to  be  in  my  atelier;  one  of  my  favorite 
eleves — gar^on  de  beaucoup  J'avenir,9  or 
something  equally  complimentary.  Why, 
we're  all  proud  of  you,  Fred.  You  are 
'the  bright,  particular  star'  of  the  family, 
as  Uncle  Thomas  enjoys  putting  it." 

But  the  widely  reputed  vanity  of  the  ar 
tistic  temperament  did  not  purr  in  the 
orthodox  way.  A  cynical  smile  drew  down 
the  corners  of  the  artist's  straight  lips. 
"All  right,  Archie,  I'm  a  perfect  wonder! 
Let  it  go  at  that.  But  that  doesn't  seem 
to  help  Molly  and  the  kids  particularly." 
528 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"Now,  now,  you  mustn't  get  to  worrying. 
It's  bad  for  you.  It's  weak!" 

"Yes,  that's  easy  to  say  too." 

Archie  produced  cigars.  "Fred,  we  all 
have  our  little  set-backs  at  times."  Archie 
extended  a  lighted  match.  "I  know  how 
it  is  myself."  He  threw  away  the  match. 
"  Business  is  awfully  slack  just  now — in  fact, 
I  would  have  stayed  up  in  the  country  to-day 
but  for  a  couple  of  directors'  meetings 
and  an  important  conference  this  afternoon. 
Fred,  you  don't  appreciate  your  happy  lot. 
I'm  afraid  you've  taken  to  looking  at  the 
dark  side  of  things.  That's  not  like  your 
old  buoyant  self.  Why,  you  lead  an  ideal 
life!  You  don't  appreciate  your  independ 
ence.  You  are  your  own  master;  you  can 
work  when  you  please  and  where  you  please 
— without  saying  'by  your  leave'  to  any 
one!  You  have  a  happy  home  life,  ador 
able  children,  a  charming  little  place  among 
those  beautiful  hills,  in  a  delightful  social 
set;  you  have  the  affection  of  your  many 
friends,  the  respect  of  your  competitors, 
and,  best  of  all,  the  love  and  admiration  of  a 
529 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

lovely  wife.  Why,  man !  what  more  do  you 
want?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Fred,  who  had  waited 
passively;  "except  to  pay  for  it." 

Archie  threw  up  his  hands  and  laughed 
appreciatively;  the  wind  had  been  taken 
out  of  his  sails.  A  perplexed  scowl  suc 
ceeded  his  enthusiasm.  When  all  the  copy 
book  maxims  are  exhausted  one  has  to  open 
the  book  of  life  as  it  really  is.  But  Archie, 
as  it  happened,  had  read  both  books  more 
thoroughly  than  his  brother.  "Bad  as  all 
that,  eh?"  he  asked  solicitously.  "What 
seems  to  be  the  trouble?" 

Fred,  his  reserve  now  melted  by  brotherly 
sympathy,  dumped  out  the  facts — the  bare 
results.  He  did  not  dwell  on  the  causes. 
Besides,  he  did  not  understand  them,  him 
self. 

Archie  looked  grave.  Here  was  an  im 
portant  matter  to  consider  after  all.  Ar 
tists  and  other  impractical  children  really 
needed  guardians.  Fred  ought  to  have 
come  to  him  long  ago.  "Look  here,  Fred, 
I  still  believe  in  you.  I  have  always  done 
530 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

so,  ever  since  the  family  tried  to  starve  you 
out  in  Paris — and  didn't  succeed."  He 
hesitated,  looked  out  of  the  window.  "Just 
as  a  favor  to  me,  why  not  let  me  finance  you 
over  this  hard  place.  Now,  don't  get  up 
pish!  That  sort  of  thing  is  done  every  day 
here  in  the  Street.  I'm  willing  to  invest  in 
your  future;  so  you  ought  to  be  willing  to 
let  me,  if  you  believe  in  yourself." 

"But  I  don't!  I  can't  tell  what's  the 
matter,  Archie,  but  somehow  I've  lost  it. 
I'm  afraid  I  should  never  pay  dividends  on 
your  investment." 

"Well,  what  if  you  didn't  ?  Great  Scott! 
Aren't  we  brothers  ?  I  could  stand  it.  I've 
made  more  money  than  is  good  for  me,  as 
it  is." 

"Perhaps  you  could  stand  it,"  said  Fred, 
"but  /  couldn't.  I  don't  care  to  be  helped. 
Thank  you,  Archie.  I  want  to  help  my 
self." 

Archie  glowed  internally.  After  all,  blood 
will  tell,  he  thought.  Fred  was  a  true  Car 
roll.  More  could  hardly  be  said  for  any  one. 

"What  do  you  want  to  do?" 
531 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

"Make  money — the  only  thing  to  do, 
when  you're  married.  It's  wrong  to  do 
anything  else." 

"And  you  think  you  can  do  that,  do 
you?"  Archie  could  not  restrain  a  laugh, 
but  it  was  not  an  unkind  laugh.  Family  ties 
are  often  stretched,  almost  to  the  breaking 
point,  but — if  they  do  not  break — like  elastic 
bands  they  snap  back  with  sudden  strength 
when  the  tension  is  released  by  trouble. 
These  two  had  always  admired  but  never 
appreciated  each  other  until  the  present 
moment.  Archie  felt  an  almost  overpower 
ing  tenderness  for  his  young  brother,  the 
ancient  clan  passion,  recalling  as  it  always 
does  to  brothers  their  boyhood  days,  when 
the  smaller  was  aided  in  his  fights  with  big 
ger  boys — from  other  clans — no  matter  how 
they  may  have  quarrelled  (and  appalled 
Aunt  Bella)  when  together  alone.  Archie 
(oh,  that  we  should  have  to  expose  it  in  a 
Carroll!)  could  almost  have  embraced  his 
younger  brother,  like  a  member  of  one  of 
those  absurd  Latin  races.  But  (never  fear!) 
Archie  being  a  true  Carroll  himself,  of  the 
532 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

noble  Anglo-Saxon  strain,  infinitely  superior 
in  every  way,  only  said:  "By  the  by,  have 
you  anything  on  for  the  rest  of  the  day  ? " 

"Oh,  I'll  go  back  to  my  charming  home 
in  the  charming  hills,"  Fred  replied  with  a 
laugh,  "to  my  lovely  wife,  my  adorable 
children,  my  affectionate  friends,  and  all 
my  other  valuable  assets,  and  try  to  turn 
out  work."  He  paused.  "I  feel  about  as 
much  up  to  it  as  you  would  be  to  win  the 
hundred-yard  dash  after  being  licked  in  a 
mile  run."  Archie  had  been  an  inter 
collegiate  champion  in  his  undergraduate 
days. 

But  the  lawyer,  who  had  won  greater 
prizes  since  that  time,  though  none,  by  the 
way,  of  which  he  was  more  proud,  ignored 
the  aptness  of  the  complimentary  simile. 
He  was  watching  his  brother's  tired  eyes, 
saw  lines  about  them  that  were  new  to  him. 
"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  said, 
after  the  manner  of  years  ago.  "You  are 
going  up  to  the  University  Club  now,  where 
we  can  thresh  this  thing  out  over  a  bang-up 
luncheon.  There's  no  one  there  to  inter- 
533 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

rupt,  at  this  time  of  day,  except  doctors, 
and  naval  officers,  and  a  few  abstracted 
literary  fellows.  I'll  telephone  for  the  run 
about  and  we'll  take  a  spin  out  on  Long 
Island.  I  need  some  fresh  air  myself." 

"I  thought  you  had  an  important  con 
ference,"  said  Fred. 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  amount  to  anything." 
It  might  have  amounted  to  one  of  Archie's 
enormous  fees,  but  this  other  conference 
now  seemed  more  important. 

"All  right,"  said  Fred,  slangily,  "you're 
on!"  But  his  eyes  glistened.  He  too  had 
recollections  of  boyhood  rescues,  and  he 
felt  safe  in  Archie's  hands.  He  had  snapped 
back  unconsciously,  unwillingly,  into  the 
old  attitude  of  hero  worship  for  the  won 
derful  Archie,  the  eldest  son  of  the  house. 
So  from  that  moment  Fred,  though  now 
the  head  of  a  house  of  his  own,  felt  and 
talked  and  conducted  himself  like  a  boy, 
in  his  brother's  presence. 

Archie  diverted  him,  tactfully,  until  Fred 
was   properly   rilled    with    good    food    and 
drink,  for  nearly  all  the  modern  Carrolls 
534 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

have  learned  this  noble  art  of  self-defence. 
Then  said  the  leader  of  the  Carroll  clan, 
with  gentle  raillery,  "All  you  fellows  who 
are  removed  from  the  real  world  seem  to 
take  for  granted  that  any  fool  can  succeed 
in  business.  Roger  has  been  talking  the 
same  way  since  he  got  into  trouble  with  the 
college  board  of  trustees  over  that  radical 
book  of  his  on  the  New  Economics.  Did 
you  know  that  ninety-five  per  cent,  of  the 
men  who  go  into  business  fail?" 

"A  still  greater  per  cent,  fail  at  painting," 
said  the  painter. 

"But  what  makes  you  think  you  could 
succeed  in  business  if  you  fail  in  art?" 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  Fred,  sound  humor 
sparkling  up  with  Archie's  vintage  cham 
pagne,  "the  trouble  is,  I  succeeded  in  art, 
so  I  thought  Fd  like  to  try  failing  in  busi 
ness.  It  might  pay  better,  judging  from 
some  of  the  ninety-five  per  cent,  one  sees 
about  town  here." 

Archie  laughed  applaudingly.  He  had 
his  father's  laugh.  "What  do  you  think 
you'd  like  to  do?" 

535 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

"What's  the  use  of  having  a  legal  ad 
viser  in  the  family !"  answered  Fred,  with 
his  shrug.  "  But  if  the  kid  can  make  good 
I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't."  This  re 
ferred  to  Harry,  the  youngest  brother,  now 
displaying  a  gold  cigarette  case  on  the  floor 
of  the  Stock  Exchange  and,  later  in  the 
afternoon,  as  Fred  and  Archie  might  see,  a 
Bleriot  monoplane  out  on  Long  Island; 
both  evidences  of  affluence  helping  his  credit 
not  less  than  they  horrified  his  loving  Aunt 
Bella,  who  had  given  him  up  as  hopeless, 
though  she  still  prayed  for  his  forgiveness, 
thus  setting  a  good  example  to  the  Forgiver. 

The  two  brothers  had  stepped  into 
Archie's  waiting  car. 

"I  may  be  'removed  from  the  world/ 
and  all  that,  but  I'm  not  fool  enough  to 
rate  that  engaging  youth's  ability  higher 
than  my  own,"  Fred  pursued. 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Archie,  "but — 
well,  he  has  youth  for  one  thing,  and  a 
specialized  ability  which  has  received  a  rig 
orous  training  for  his  agile  caper*s.  Like 
everything  else,  it  is  not  so  easy  as  it  looks. 
536 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

That  kind  of  work  has  its  technic  as  well 
as  yours." 

"So  has  the  work  of  any  other  crou 
pier"  said  Fred,  who,  it  is  feared,  shared 
certain  of  the  "high-brow"  prejudices.  "I 
used  to  know  one  at  Monte  Carlo  who 
learned  his  job  in  a  few  months.  He  is 
now  at  the  head  of  a  gambling  house  of  his 
own  at  Ostend.  So  there  ought  to  be  some 
hope  for  me" 

"But  the  trouble  with  you,"  said  Archie 
smiling  idly  at  the  cynical  simile,  "is  that 
you've  learned  and  practised  for  years  an 
entirely  different  game.  You  had  a  bent 
for  business  as  a  boy.  But  since  then — 
everything  you've  done  has  twisted  you  off 
in  another  direction.  No,  I  can't  see  you, 
Fred,  as  a  business  man." 

Fred  laughed  and  shuddered  inwardly. 
"Neither  can  I,"  said  he.  "But  I  can't 
see  my  family  starve.  I  ought  to  be  able 
to  make  a  living.  I  never  heard  of  a  Car 
roll  who  couldn't." 

The  car  sped  eastward  over  the  bridge. 

"I'd  hate  to  see  you  throw  over  all  you've 
537 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

won,"  said  Archie,  "just  when  you  are 
coming  into  your  own."  He  was  beginning 
to  feel  the  heart-breaking  significance  of 
his  brother's  mask  of  flippancy.  He  knew 
how  these  artists  loved  their  work,  and  by 
the  same  token  how  it  unfitted  them  for 
anything  else. 

"  Then  what  the  devil  would  you  advise  ? " 
They  were  now  scudding  past  vacant  lots 
on  Long  Island,  once  farms,  now  "suburban 
villa"  sites,  profitable  to  shrewd  investors, 
desirable  to  commuting  clerks  who  upheld 
the  institution  of  marriage.  Perhaps  fresh 
air  and  the  rapid  motion  promoted  moraliz 
ing  on  the  part  of  Archie — a  thoughtful  ob 
server,  this  Carroll.  u  There  are  only  two 
kinds  of  people  in  the  world,"  he  said,  "those 
who  earn  what  they  do  not  get,  and  those 
who  get  what  they  do  not  earn."  (He  must 
have  read  it  in  a  muck-raking  magazine!) 
'You  belong  to  the  former  class,  and  I 
belong  to  the  latter.  Now,  any  one  who 
gets  what  he  does  not  earn  must,  naturally, 
rob  some  one  who  earns  what  he  does  not 
get — for  some  one  must  earn  it.  And  there 
538 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

you  have  our  whole  economic  system  in  a 
moral  nutshell." 

Fred  admired  the  epigram  more  than  the 
doctrine.  "If  you  don't  believe  in  it — if 
you  think  you  are  robbing  me,  why  don't 
you  practice  what  you  preach  ?  You're  not 
consistent." 

"Simply  because  I  prefer  robbing  to  be 
ing  robbed.  I  don't  believe  in  ocean 
steamers  racing  in  a  fog,  but  I'd  jump  into 
the  life-boat  all  the  same  if  the  two  ships 
collided.  I  don't  own  the  whole  ship ;  merely 
myself.  I'm  a  helpless  passenger." 

"I  wish  you'd  show  me  where  they  keep 
those  life-boats." 

"I'm  offering  to  give  you  a  lift  in  mine." 

"I  want  to  paddle  my  own." 

"You  don't  know  how." 

"I  could  learn." 

"When  I  married  Julia,"  Archie  broke 
off,  "she  had  more  money  than  I  had.  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  get  more 
than  she  had — or  else  I  shouldn't  have  a 
peaceful  mind.  Well,  I've  got  the  money, 
much  more  of  it  than  any  one,  including 
539 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Julia,  knows.  I'm  proud  of  what  I've  done, 
I  suppose.  I  used  to  be,  at  any  rate.  It 
still  gives  me  a  smiling  comfort  when  I 
know  people  are  thinking:  'Oh,  yes,  he 
married  money.'  But  I  somehow  haven't 
yet  secured  that  peaceful  mind!  I'm  free 
to  say  I  earned  a  bit  of  what  I've  got  in 
the  practice  of  my  profession.  You  know 
how  hard  I've  worked.  But  the  bulk  of  it 
I  'made,'  as  we  say — or  won,  rather,  though 
I  deserve  something  for  my  risk  and  my 
wisdom — in  playing  the  Wall  Street  game 
with  the  inside  tips  I  picked  up  in  the  legiti 
mate  pursuit  of  my  profession,  which  is 
not,  by  the  way,  confined  to  showing  cor 
porations  how  to  get  around  the  law — not 
in  our  firm." 

"Then  what  are  you  kicking  about?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  kicking — just  comment 
ing." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  kick  either,  if  I  could 
do  it." 

Archie  must  have  been  disgruntled  about 
something;  his  political  ambitions,  per 
haps.  Or  was  Julia  "too  fond  of  atten- 
540 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

tion?"  Poor  Julia,  she  had  never  been 
fond  of  much  else — and  now  she  was  losing 
her  figure.  That's  not  comedy;  it's  trag 
edy.  Well,  in  any  case,  why  should  Archie 
attack  Status,  unless  he  had  a  personal 
grievance  ?  He  had  won  out.  Why  should 
any  man,  worthy  of  the  name,  attack  any 
thing  he  considers  wrong  ?  For  if  he  has 
lost  by  it,  then  he  is  a  poor  sport;  envious. 
If  he  has  won  by  it,  he  oughtn't  to  "kick"; 
inconsistent.  Surely,  this  was  no  way  to 
talk  to  an  innocent  younger  brother  who 
was  "taking  his  medicine"  like  a  man,  only 
asking  for  a  sporting  chance  "to  play  the 
game"  against  those  who  knew  it  well  and 
had  stacked  the  cards. 

"I  don't  believe  business  is  so  bad  as 
you  make  out,"  said  Fred,  thinking  that 
Archie  was  trying  to  shock  him  or  scare 
him  off.  "Look  at  all  the  good  men  in  it." 

"There  are  lots  of  them.  The  good  men 
in  it  are  all  right.  The  institution  is  stronger 
than  they  are.  Willing  or  unwilling,  they 
are  its  victims.  I'm  'good'  myself.  I  give 
back  little  chunks  of  my  winnings  to  the 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE*  OF 

poor.  I'm  prominent  in  'uplift  move 
ments.'  I'm  taking  more  time  off  every 
year  for  'social  service'  and  'worthy  causes.' 
I  'sacrifice  my  pleasures'  for  the  sake  of 
'doing  good  to  others.'  In  fact,  I'm  a 
model  citizen — and  incidentally  I  get  a  lot 
of  fun  out  of  it,"  he  added  smiling. 

"But  I  mean,  these  big  fellows,"  said 
Fred,  "like  Sterling;  those  'higher  up,'  who 
make  the  game  go.  I  don't  believe  they're 
all  so  rotten  bad  as  you  reformers  try  to 
make  us  believe." 

"There's  nothing  Sterling  would  rather 
do  than  'do  good.'  They  all  come  to  it  in 
time,  if  they're  decent  inside,  as  Sterling  is. 
There's  nothing  else  to  come  to — for  any 
one.  He  wants  awfully  to  help  education 
and  religion,  and,  as  you  know,  art." 

"Well,  he's  doing  it  too — to  the  best  of 
his  bungling  ability.  He  has  helped  a  lot 
of  your  'worthy  causes.'  ' 

"Oh,   he's    glad   to    help   everybody,    if 

everybody  will  only  do  as  he  says.     As  soon 

as  they  made  him  a  trustee  of  the  college— 

you  can't  run  a  college  without  money,  and 

542 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

he  was  made  to  pay  first,  which  is  a  much 
safer  educational  policy  than  electing  trus 
tees  on  trust — as  soon  as  he  got  his  hands 
on  the  plant  he  had  Roger  kicked  out 
because  the  doctrine  preached  in  'The 
New  Economies'  was  'dangerous/  in  Ster 
ling's  opinion.  The  book  has  had  a  popular 
vogue,  unfortunately  for  Roger.  Even  Ster 
ling  read  it." 

"Poor  old  Roger,"  sighed  Fred,  forgetting 
his  own  troubles  for  the  moment  as  he 
thought  of  a  brother's.  Roger  was  now 
lecturing  in  the  wild,  insurgent  West. 
Sophia,  his  wife,  and  the  children  were 
"visiting"  Aunt  Bella. 

"You  know  what  happened,"  Archie 
went  on,  "in  the  case  of  that  celebrated 
young  preacher  Sterling  imported  for  his 
church  from  abroad  at  great  expense.  He 
mixed  up  in  these  new-fangled  'social  ser 
vice'  notions,  declined  to  confine  his  atten 
tion  exclusively  to  the  'good  old  gospel'  of 
individual  salvation.  So  Sterling  then  ex 
ported  him,  also  at  great  expense;  and,  no 
doubt,  thought  he  was  pleasing  God  and 
543 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

helping  the  cause  of  truth.  Sterling  be 
lieves  in  individualism." 

"Say  what  you  like  about  the  old  man," 
said  Fred,  "but  he's  no  hypocrite.  I  know 
a  fakir  when  I  see  one." 

"Of  course,  he's  no  hypocrite.  Very  few 
men  are.  They  are  merely  self-deceived. 
He  believes  far  more  sincerely  than  I  do 
in  business  as  it  is  done.  Both  these  young 
men  were  hurting  confidence  in  business, 
and  that  means  hurting  the  country.  Ster 
ling  honestly  wants  to  help  the  country, 
not  merely  himself.  I  don't  say  that  he 
was  not  right,  according  to  his  dazzling 
lights,  in  either  of  these  cases,  any  more 
than  when,  for  the  cause  of  art,  he  threw 
you  down,  but " 

"He  did  not  throw  me  down,"  inter 
jected  the  painter  hotly,  "I  threw  him 
down." 

"Yes,  that's  what  Roger  said.  But  he's 
got  you  both  down  at  any  rate.  Maybe  you 
both  deserve  it.  All  I  say  is  that  Sterling 
and  even  the  best  of  his  sort — good  men, 
great  experts  in  their  line— are  not  neces- 

544 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

sarily  the  best  judges  of  what  is  fit  to  sur 
vive  in  every  other  expert's  line  in  the 
world.  They  don't  know  enough." 

"Well,  I  should  say  not!"  exclaimed 
Fred  with  amusement. 

"And  yet  they  are  the  ultimate  authority 
in  governing  and  guiding  the  destinies  of 
the  race — even  its  tastes,  by  example.  They 
are  the  ultimate  authority  because  they 
have  the  ultimate  power.  And  they  have 
the  ultimate  power,  not  because  they  are 
*  stronger'  than  some  of  the  rest  of  you, 
but  because  all  the  rest  of  you  give  it  to 
them.  All  of  us  are  victims  of  the  institu 
tions  we  have  made  and  can't  afford  to 
modify." 

"Well,  this  is  all  very  fine  in  theory,  as 
Sterling  would  say,  but  I'm  up  against  a 
practical  proposition,"  put  in  Fred.  "This 
doesn't  help  me  educate  my  children.  All 
I  can  infer  is  that  fellows  like  Roger  and 
me  have  no  business  marrying  if  we  won't 
do  as  we  are  told  by  the  Sterlings.  I  wish 
I  had  searched  for  Truth  and  cashed  in  my 
twenty  thousand.  At  the  time  I  thought 
US 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

the  only  decent  thing  to  do  was  to  decline  it 
with  thanks." 

"It  was.  If  Sterling  ever  found  the 
Truth  he'd  drop  dead,"  said  the  reformer. 
"  I  wasn't  thinking  about  you.  We're  mere 
atoms." 

"Eating  atoms,  however.  You've  got  to 
think  about  me." 

"Oh,  you're  all  right.  The  only  decent 
thing  for  a  man  physically  and  intellectually 
fit,  as  you  are,  is  to  marry,  when  he  finds 
his  mate,  as  you  did.  Don't  you  realize 
what  you  owe  the  race,  my  boy!" 

"I  can't  afford  to." 

"That's  only  because  the  race  does  not 
realize  what  it  owes  you.  The  race  can't 
afford  not  to  realize  such  things  much 
longer.  The  thing  that  causes  marriage  is 
the  most  individualistic  thing  in  the  world; 
the  result  is  the  most  racial.  Society,  when 
it  cuts  its  eye-teeth  and  becomes  practical, 
won't  allow  marriage  and  the  rearing  of  chil 
dren  to  remain  so  individualistically  difficult 
as  it  is  to-day — that  is,  if  society  wants  to 
save  marriage  and  itself." 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"You  don't  advocate  letting  the  State 
pay  a  man  for  the  support  of  his  own  chil 
dren  and  all  that  rot!"  Fred  was  properly 
amazed. 

"That's  the  same  tone  of  voice  once  used 
in  regard  to  the  State's  educating  them. 
No,  I  wouldn't  pay  the  man  a  cent  for  it. 
I'd  pay  the  woman.  Hers  is  the  most  im 
portant  work  in  the  world;  and,  as  is  usually 
the  case,  the  real  labor  is  underpaid  by 
society,  which  reaps  the  profit.  Women 
aren't  rewarded  for  their  great  work.  In 
most  cases  they  are  punished." 

"Oh,  now,  any  true  woman " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  what  you'll  say.  That's 
what  they  always  say — especially  the  men. 
But  the  happiness  and  holiness  of  beautiful 
motherhood  does  not  make  the  present  ar 
rangement  just  or  wise.  Nor  is  it  working 
out  practically" 

"All  the  same,  if  I  can't  take  care  of  my 
own  I  deserve  to  suffer." 

"But  do  they?" 

Fred  squirmed.  He  was  suffering  more 
than  "they"  were  just  now.  "Molly  and 

547 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

I  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  eyes  averted, 
c  had  always  been  pretty  fond  of  young 
things,  dogs  and  so  on.  We  didn't  expect 
many  other  luxuries,  being  painters.  Be 
sides,  I  was  making  a  good  income,  and — 
hut,  oh,  I  had  no  business  having  children! 
I  see  that  now/' 

"You  would  have  had  no  business  not 
having  them/'  said  Archie. 

"Well,  I'd  never  let  anybody  support  my 
children.  That's  why  I'm  here  to-day.  I'd 
work  for  them,  fight  for  them — I'd  even 
rob  for  them,  before  I'd  accept  aid  from 
the  government." 

"Such  as  free  parks,  for  instance?" 
Archie  put  in.  "Society  is  learning,  gradu 
ally.  It  takes  a  long  time,  naturally,  when 
there  are  so  many  prejudices,  like  yours,  to 
overcome.  Every  improvement  that  gets 
into  civilization  has  had  to  fight  its  way  in, 
despite  the  opposition  or  indifference  of  the 
majority.  In  your  case,  you  haven't  robbed 
for  your  children.  You've  only  worked  for 
them  and  fought  yourself  for  them,  and 
now  you're  being  robbed  by  them.  You 
548 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

have  been  sacrificing  yourself  for  them— 
often  the  worst  crime  a  man  can  commit. 
You  have  only  destroyed  your  efficiency  for 
those  who  need  it.  Sacrificing  your  pleas 
ure  or  your  preference  is  all  right,  though 
even  that  can  be  overdone,  but  you  have 
no  business  sacrificing  your  God-given  self, 
if  you  can  fulfil  the  object  of  your  existence 
in  any  other  way.  The  object  of  existence 
is  seldom  non-existence.  Even  Jesus  Christ 
did  not  allow  Himself  to  be  killed  until  He 
had  lived  a  life  which  changed  the  face  of 
the  world — though  not  its  heart.  Only  the 
heart  of  an  occasional  individual  one  meets 
— usually  a  'failure.' : 

"My!  but  you  are  comforting,  Archie. 
This  solves  all  my  problems,  pays  all  my 
bills.  How  did  you  ever  think  of  it!" 

Yes,  why  all  this  attack  upon  established 
ideals  ?  Why  create  popular  discontent  in 
the  unpoisoned  mind  of  an  honest  day- 
laborer  willing  to  let  good  enough  alone  ? 
Why  all  this  talk  about  " robbery" — and 
from  a  lawyer,  at  that,  sworn  to  uphold  the 
sacred  laws  of  property?  Nearly  all  thf. 

549 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

nicest  people  get  more  than  they  earn. 
How  else  could  they  be  nice  ?  They  would 
hardly  have  time.  Who  could  give  to  the 
poor  ?  There  would  not  be  nearly  enough 
unearned  increment.  For  that  matter,  there 
might  be  no  poverty,  and  then  how  could 
we  have  any  charity  ?  and  without  organ 
ized  charity  how  could  we  have  any  true 
Christianity  ?  Besides,  Archie  failed  to 
mention  the  mere  detail  of  a  practical  solu 
tion.  He  had  pondered  these  problems  for 
nigh  a  dozen  years,  and  had  never  dis 
covered  in  all  that  time  a  perfect  working 
substitute  for  a  scheme  of  things  which  it 
has  taken  as  many  thousands  of  years  to 
reach  its  present  beautiful  perfection.  He 
must  have  been  visionary.  Therefore  he 
ought  to  have  left  good  enough  alone.  If 
there  is  anything  sickly  about  our  civiliza 
tion,  why  don't  these  reformers  compound  a 
perfect  prescription  first  ?  Then  make  a 
diagnosis  after  the  autopsy  ?  Meanwhile 
these  questionings  which  are  heard  all  over 
the  world,  even  from  some  of  our  nicest 
people  now  (even  in  dear  old  America!), 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

ought  to  be  silenced.  Discontent  among 
the  envious  or  these  Utopians  ought  to  be 
dammed  up  until  it  bursts,  like  a  French 
Revolution.  That  is  the  nicer  and  more 
conservative  way  of  managing  these  little 
affairs. 

"Well,  Archie,"  said  Fred  as  he  stepped 
out  of  the  car  to  take  his  train  for  home, 
feeling  more  respect  for  himself,  more  love 
for  his  brother,  but  even  less  confidence  in 
the  future  than  when  he  arrived.  "I've  had 
a  bully  time,  but  I  haven't  landed  a  job!" 

"Oh,  that?"  asked  Archie,  as  if  he  had 
not  been  pondering  the  difficult  problem 
the  whole  time  beneath  the  surface  of  his 
abstractions.  uWhy,  that's  perfectly  sim 
ple.  Will  you  take  a  job  from  me  ?  I'm 
one  of  the  rich  robbers,  you're  one  of  the 
poor  robbed;  you'll  have  to  take  employ 
ment  from  some  of  us,  you  know.  We've 
got  you  cornered." 

"If  it's  something  I  can  really  work  at," 
said  Fred  suspecting  fraternal  generosity. 

"Go  down  to  my  shooting-box  in  North 
Carolina  and  paint  that  mountain  I  bought 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

in  cheap  from  the  natives  ten  years  ago,  and 
those  waterfalls  at  the  bottom.  I  want  to 
increase  their  fame  and  value.  Take  your 
whole  family,  so  you  won't  be  too  lonely  to 
do  good  work.  But  you'll  have  to  agree 
not  to  do  the  waterfalls  until  you  have 
fished  all  those  streams  this  spring.  I've 
had  them  stocked  again  with  rainbow 
trout.  In  fact,  you  are  not  to  do  anything 
but  loaf  until  after  you  have  shot  ruffled 
grouse  on  the  mountain  next  fall.  You 
are  all  in  now,  no  good  for  work,  and  I  want 
only  'the  best  that  money  can  buy.'  ' 

This  seemed  the  only  practical  solution 
he  could  offer,  as  a  result  of  a  sympathetic 
diagnosis  of  the  trouble  with  his  little 
brother,  whom  he  had  watched  and  sounded 
thoroughly  during  the  whole  time  that  he 
might  have  been  landing  a  big  piece  of 
business  down  town. 

V 

"Archie  says,"  remarked  Fred  to  Molly, 
after   reading  a   letter   which   contained   a 
large  check  from  his  brother  (on  account) 
552 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

"that  we  shall  save  him  the  cost  of  a  care 
taker.  That  is  to  save  my  face,  God  bless 
him!" 

"God  will,  if  it  saves  your  health/'  said 
Molly,  who  was  more  concerned  about  her 
husband  at  present  than  about  God  or 
Archie. 

"And  he  recommends  their  former  gov 
erness,  to  teach  the  children.  Hence  this 
unnecessarily  large  check — which  he  calls 
a  'retainer/  " 

"Yes,  we  are  to  be  retainers  upon  his 
feudal  estate,"  laughed  Molly.  "  But  Archie 
is  a  dear.  I  always  have  adored  him  since 
that  Christmas  when  we  tried  to  reform  the 
family  party." 

"Waterfalls!  Molly,  can't  you  see  me 
painting  waterfalls!  That's  about  as  much 
my  style  as — — •" 

"As  buying  pictures  is  Archie's.  He 
never  looks  at  them — not  even  at  the  por 
trait  you  did  of  Julia  and  her  children!" '.  .  . 

Such  is  the  pride  and  prejudice  of  the 
Carrolls  that  even  though  Fred,  "the  one 
that  became  an  artist,"  now  understood  the 
553 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

capitalistic  system,  he  could  not  like  the  idea 
of  living  on  his  generous  brother.  So  he 
got  to  work  upon  the  waterfalls,  within  a 
fortnight,  declaring  to  Molly  that  he  was 
now  in  splendid  working  shape.  It  is  all 
right  to  live  upon  the  bounty  of  some  one 
you  have  buried  or  married;  but  who  wants 
to  live,  like  a  parasite,  upon  the  earnings  of 
some  one  living  ?  Nobody,  except  women, 
children,  and  capitalists. 

"Don't  work  so  hard!"  pleaded  Molly. 
"You'll  kill  yourself!" 

"Well,  what  of  it?  I  never  could  see 
any  particular  joy  or  virtue  in  sheer  exist 
ence,  mere  breathing  and  spending  exer 
cises.  There's  nothing  paintable  down  here. 
I  can't  make  anything  decent  out  of  it." 

"But  think  of  us!" 

"I'm  doing  so  all  the  time.  You'll  have 
to  be  supported  by  Archie  and  Aunt  Bella 
sooner  or  later.  One  less  will  make  so 
much  the  more  to  go  around."  Now  surely 
this  was  morbid.  Any  healthy  man  whose 
family  "has  money"  ought  to  feel  secure^ 
Think  of  the  many  who  lack  that  comfort. 
554 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Fred  should  have  been  delighted,  and  gone 
fishing. 

"But,  dear,  you  know,"  said  Molly 
shamelessly,  "Aunt  Bella  can't  last  much 
longer  and  then  we  can  go  abroad  and  get 
a  new  start  in  life.  Oh,  think  of  being  free 
from  everlasting  worry!"  Such  a  heartless 
way  to  talk  about  a  good  old  lady  who  had 
never  hurt  Molly,  except  by  saying  recently 
that  Fred  had  forsaken  the  ways  of  his 
fathers  and  deserved  humbling. 

"I  suppose  you'll  say  next  that  you  won't 
accept  your  inheritance,  especially  as  it's 
going  to  be  a  big  one,  from  what  Archie 
tells  us."  For  Archie  had  been  heartless 
too,  though  more  tactfully  so.  He  had 
merely  said:  "Some  day  you  and  Fred  will 
be  well  fixed  for  life." 

"Won't  accept  it,  eh?"  answered  Fred. 
"Just  you  watch  me!"  Then  he  added, 
"Poor  old  Aunt  Bella,  I  hope  she  isn't  suf 
fering  much.  I  really  ought  to  go  and  see 
her — but  how  can  I  ?  I  am  painting  pretty 
waterfalls.  Good  old  Archie!" 

Well,  as  it  happened,  Fred  did  not  finish 
555 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  waterfalls,  and  did  not  remain  as  a 
retainer  on  his  brother's  baronial  estate. 
The  years  of  overwork,  overworry,  and  dis 
illusionment  were  too  much  even  for  a 
clean  Carroll  constitution.  He  came  down 
with  nervous  prostration  and  moved  on  to 
a  sanitarium.  There  he  had  to  accept  still 
more  bounty  from  his  relatives.  "  Com 
plexes/'  said  the  famous  neurologist,  "dis- 
associations.  Half  the  men  in  this  city  are 
more  or  less  inclined  that  way.  In  most 
cases  it  can  be  traced  directly  or  indirectly 
to  the  greed  for  money.  Money  isn't  worth 
it.  Why  should  they  want  it?"  The  bill 
was  enormous.  Archie  and  young  Harry 
fought  to  pay  for  it.  For  all  the  Carrolls 
had  rallied  about  the  invalid  with  a  rush, 
even  distant  Carrolls  who  never  appeared 
except  at  weddings  and  funerals  wanted  to 
know  "if  there  was  anything  they  could 
do."  For  the  word  had  gone  forth  that  a 
Carroll  was  in  trouble. 

When  Fred  had  passed  through  the  black 
period,  during  which  he  hated  his  wife  and 

556 


THE  FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

all  who  were  dearest  to  him — a  symptom 
difficult  for  the  neurologist  to  explain  clearly 
to  little  Molly — and  when  he  was  beginning 
to  see  infinite  possibilities  for  "joy  in  mere 
existence,"  his  wife  at  last  was  brought 
to  see  him.  Others  were  paying  her  bills 
now,  except  such  as  she  insisted  upon  meet 
ing  by  raising  violets  for  the  market  in  place 
of  tending  her  formal  garden,  and  in  giv 
ing  drawing  lessons  to  the  younger  Sterling 
children.  For  Molly  was  a  true  old-fash 
ioned  wife.  Hence  she  was  ill-trained  for 
either  these  undertakings.  But  was  helped 
because  kind  people  were  sorry  for  her. 

Fred,  however,  had  no  room  for  worry 
about  such  things  now;  he  was  so  glad  to  see 
her.  And  she  no  longer  worried  even  about 
Fred;  she  was  so  glad  to  see  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "we  still  have  each 
other,  at  any  rate." 

She  made  the  girlish  grimace  at  him 
which  had  attracted  his  fastidious  attention 
at  their  first  meeting,  years  ago.  "Yes," 
she  said  whimsically,  "that  seems  to  have 
been  the  whole  trouble." 
557 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

As  she  hoped,  he  broke  into  his  old 
chuckling  laugh.  It  was  a  good  sign.  She 
pushed  back  her  hair,  dropping  her  eyes  in 
stead  of  raising  them,  as  was  her  way  when 
making  people  laugh,  characteristics  which 
brought  back  a  surge  of  goodly  memories. 
"All  the  same,"  he  said,  drawing  her  down 
to  him — Molly  found  him  strong  enough 
for  that — "so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  if  I 
had  it  to  do  all  over  again,  why — I'd  do 
it  all  over  again!  .  .  .  Would  you?" 

There  was  an  adorable  look  in  her  hu 
morous  eyes  when  she  raised  them  to  his. 
"I'm  afraid  so,"  she  said.  .  .  . 

Perfectly  irrational,  of  course,  and  per 
fectly  right.  Those  who  insist  upon  living 
rationally  never  live  at  all. 

Therefore,  we  submit,  that  inasmuch  as 
this  rapidly  middle-aging  pair  was  now 
melting  in  each  others  arms,  the  institu 
tion  of  marriage  is  perfect,  and  admits  of 
no  improvement  in  its  requirements  and 
customs;  that  the  mutual  relations  of  civil 
ization  and  the  family  fit  into  the  scheme 
of  present  things  as  admirably  as  in  the 
558 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Patriarchate;  that  in  this  glorious  age,  it 
just  so  happens,  men  have  spoken  the  last 
word  on  all  important  matters  in  the  best 
possible  world;  and  that  now,  finally  and 
for  all  time,  nothing  shall  ever  be  changed 
again  on  a  spinning  globe  made  by  and 
for  evolution,  which  has  changed  everything 
from  the  beginning,  human  nature  most  of 
all.  Though,  to  be  sure,  "human  nature 
never  changes/'  Authority  has  so  decreed 
and,  of  course,  that  settles  human  nature 
and  everything  else. 


VI 

When  the  Fred  Carrolls  returned  at  last 
from    abroad,    brown    and    cheerful    and 
serene,  they  took  a  house  in  town  for  the 
winter,  and  the  gossips  out  in  the  country— 
for  even  the  most  refined  and  conservative 
colonies  have  been  known  to  include  a  few- 
nodded  their  heads  over  the  teacups  and 
said:    "That  aunt  of  theirs  must  have  left 
them  more  than  we  thought. " 

Aunt  Bella's  magnificent  bequest  for  es- 
559 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

tablishing  the  "Arabella  Carroll  Memorial 
Neighborhood  House"  down  on  the  East 
Side — whence  much  of  her  fortune  had 
come  and  whither  some  of  it  dutifully  re 
turned — though  hardly  comparable  with 
some  of  the  other  princely  gifts  of  this  golden 
age  of  organized  charity,  was  nevertheless 
meritorious  enough  in  size  to  get  a  head 
line  in  the  newspapers.  The  residue  of  the 
estate  went,  according  to  the  will,  share  and 
share  alike  to  dear  Aunt  Bella's  beloved 
nephews  and  nieces.  Now,  as  there  were  a 
number  of  these,  a  conservative  reading 
between  the  head-lines  had  at  first  made 
Fred's  portion  only  seventy  thousand  dol 
lars,  though  there  were  others  who  stated 
authoritatively  that  it  was  at  least  seven 
hundred  thousand,  arguing  that  the  very 
fact  of  dear  Aunt  Bella's  being  able  to  give 
so  much  to  the  children  of  the  East  Side 
showed  that  her  estate  was  "much  larger 
than  at  first  estimated." 

Fred  had  been  appointed  one  of  the  trus 
tees  of  the  Neighborhood  House.     Members 
of  the  upper  class  who  are  too  selfish  to  take 
560 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

an  interest  in  the  children  of  the  poor,  by 
their  own  free  will,  should  be  made  to  do  so, 
by  the  will  of  a  wealthy  benefactress.  So 
he  had  hurried  back  to  America  in  time  to 
attend  the  "ceremonies  in  connection  with" 
the  laying  of  the  corner-stone.  He  was  now 
sitting  upon  the  platform,  looking  reserved 
and  dignified,  like  a  true  Carroll  at  last, 
hearing  what  a  good  Carroll  Aunt  Bella 
had  been  and  realizing  how  it  felt  to  have, 
among  other  things,  a  fat  heritage  of  high 
ideals. 

He  looked  plump  and  prosperous  in  his 
eminently  becoming  London  clothes — "  well- 
groomed  "  is  perhaps  a  more  pleasing  phrase, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  had 
taken  on  weight  during  his  residence  abroad. 
It  became  him  well,  however.  It  made  him 
more  "distinguished  looking." 

But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  Frederic  Car 
roll  did  not  appreciate  his  sacred  trust  nor 
the  distinction  of  being  a  useful  public  cit 
izen,  for  as  soon  as  the  ceremonies  were  over 
he  stepped  into  his  waiting  limousine  and 
dashed  up  the  brilliant  avenue  as  fast  as  the 
561 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

traffic  regulators  would  allow,  delighting  in 
the  opalescent  twilight,  the  purple  tones,  and 
the  pretty  girls.  So  much  so  that  he  failed 
to  see  the  nods  of  a  couple  of  old  pals  of  his 
who  were  walking  and  who  nudged  each 
other  and  smiled  as  he  passed.  He  had  re 
gained  his  healthy  exuberance  during  his  ab 
sence.  With  rest  came  objectivity.  He  could 
see  again.  Morbid  in-growing  thoughts 
had  vanished  and  he  had  reached  a  period 
in  his  artistic  career  where  he  could  appre 
ciate  the  charm  of  New  York.  He  no  longer 
sought  for  the  beauty  of  the  Old  World  in 
the  streets  of  the  new,  as  cubs  do  when  just 
back  from  Paris  with  long  hair  and  false 
ideals.  He  took  and  enjoyed  what  was  set 
before  him,  asking  no  questions,  and  got 
more  stimulation  out  of  it  than  from  a 
bottle  of  champagne. 

"You  missed  a  great  moment/'  said  Fred 
when  he  joined  Molly  over  the  tea-table,  for 
his  wife  had  refused  to  go.  "There  I  sat 
shivering  in  my  last  summer's  suit,  my 
pockets  full  of  unpaid  bills,  wasting  two 
good  hours  of  daylight,  and  trying  to  look 
562 


I  hate  Aunt  Bella's  public  spirit,"  she  cried  vindictively 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

worthy  of  my  heritage  of  high  ideals  while  I 
listened  to  the  mayor  praise  Aunt  Bella's 
public  spirit. " 

"  I  hate  Aunt  Bella's  public  spirit,"  cried 
Molly  vindictively  and  she  threw  the  after 
noon  paper  describing  the  memorial  across 
the  room. 

Financially  speaking,  the  Carrolls  were 
at  the  present  moment  worse  off  than  ever. 
They  merely  seemed  to  be  better  off.  But 
that  was  not  their  fault.  Indeed,  they  were 
so  guiltless  that  they  never  even  suspected 
it.  Their  pecuniary  sensibilities  were  still 
quite  rudimentary,  despite  all  they  had  been 
through.  They  knew  how  Aunt  Bella  had 
treated  them,  and  assumed,  if  they  thought 
about  it  at  all,  that  others  could  guess  by  the 
Neighborhood  House.  There  is  nothing 
like  having  a  clean  conscience.  But,  again, 
nothing  looks  so  guilty  as  innocence.  Every 
thing  they  had  done  had  been  in  the  inter 
est  of  art  or  economy.  It  looked  like  the 
evidence  of  ease  and  solvency. 

When  the  residuary  legatees  found  that 
their  respective  portions  would  be  a  scant 
563 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

ten  thousand  apiece,  Archie  Carroll,  who 
was  one  of  the  executors  of  the  estate,  being 
a  good,  conservative,  business-like  fellow, 
invested  his  legacy  and  the  very  consider 
able  executor's  fee  in  Steel  Fives.  Being 
also  a  notably  kind  elder  brother,  full  of 
sound  advice,  he  had  suggested  that  the 
unbusiness-like  Fred  should  follow  his  ex 
ample. 

But  Fred  did  not  see  it  that  way.  "That 
may  be  wise  for  you,  Archie,"  said  the  artist 
broad-mindedly,  "but  I  can't  afford  such 
luxuries.  It  would  not  be  business-like.  I 
believe  in  putting  one's  capital  into  one's 
business."  So  he  packed  up,  took  the 
family  to  Europe,  and  stayed  there  until  he 
got  his  legacy  all  nicely  spent. 

He  had  been  bankrupt  in  health,  hope, 
and  ideas.  The  interest  on  a  few  Steel 
Fives  would  not  have  restocked  him  in 
these  very  necessary  resources  for  the  pur 
suit  of  his  trade.  The  stay  abroad  restocked 
him.  He  also  accomplished  some  very  good 
work  over  there,  sketching  with  a  congenial 
group  of  fellow-craftsmen,  who  knew  his 
564 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

work,  who  liked  him,  who  talked  his  own 
language.  He  got  the  inspiration  of  a 
change  of  scene.  He  studied  the  new 
schools.  He  fell  into  the  swing  of  a  new 
manner  of  his  own.  He  achieved  a  new 
grip  on  life  and  a  new  view  of  his  own  life 
in  perspective. 

One  of  the  chief  advantages  of  going 
abroad  is  what  you  see  at  home  when  you 
get  back.  The  Carrolls  saw  a  whole  row 
of  mistakes  grinning  at  them  from  the 
rear.  But  they  also  saw  a  crowd  of  op 
portunities  beckoning  in  front.  There  was 
a  chance  to  make  good  after  all.  'You 
are  still  young.  You  must -get  back  into 
the  city,  Fred.  If  not  with  the  family  then 
without  us,"  said  Molly,  who  could  see 
sometimes  better  than  he  could.  "Don't 
think  about  the  family,  think  about  your 
work.  Think  what  the  big  men  over  there 
told  you  about  it." 

It  so  happened  that  on  the  steamer  com 
ing  home  they  fell  in  with  an  old  friend  of 
theirs,  an  admirer  of  the  work  of  Frederic 
Carroll,  a  gentleman  of  leisure  who  classified 
565 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

in  the  preliminary  trial  heats  for  long-dis 
tance  culture  prizes,  as  "artistic  and  lit 
erary"  inasmuch  as  he  possessed  a  valuable 
collection  of  ceramics  and  went  in  for  old 
prints  and  first  editions,  a  flabby  soul  but 
a  kindly  one.  He  said  he  hated  New  York 
in  winter — he  was  always  hating  things — 
and  proposed  trading  houses  for  a  year.  To 
be  sure,  his  town  house,  very  nice  and 
spacious  as  town  houses  go,  was  not  so 
comfortable  and  complete  as  the  Carrolls' 
country  house,  though  it  would  have  rented 
for  five  or  six  times  as  much  money.  The 
Carrolls,  however,  were  so  lacking  in  pe 
cuniary  consciousness  that  they  never  even 
thought  of  this  sordid,  commercial  view  of 
the  matter.  They  hesitated  only  because 
they  knew  the  house  and  wondered  if  they 
could  stand  the  color  of  the  drawing-room. 
"But  it  will  only  be  for  one  year,"  as  Molly 
reminded  Fred,  and  "beggars  cannot  be 
choosers/'  as  Fred  cheerfully  reminded 
Molly.  So  they  graciously  accepted,  and 
Fred's  friend  had  the  honor  of  saying  to  his 
acquaintances,  "I  have  taken  the  Fred  Car- 
566 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

rolls'  place  for  the  winter — a  simple  little 
cottage,  but  it's  only  for  a  year." 

The  rest  of  the  illusion  of  affluence  fol 
lowed  as  naturally  and  easily  as  brother 
Archie's  smooth-running  car.  Archie  still 
felt  so  cut  up  over  Aunt  Bella's  public 
spirit  that  he  had  taken  his  family  off  on 
a  long  cruise  among  the  Bahamas  and  had 
begged  the  Freds  to  use  his  car  during 
the  winter  because  George  was  the  best 
chauffeur  he  had  ever  had  and  he  did  not 
want  to  lose  him.  Fred  did  not  feel  like 
accepting  it  at  first,  but  Molly  reminded 
him  that  he  had  refused  to  accept  any 
thing  from  Archie  for  the  portrait  of  the 
latter's  wife;  a  most  interesting  portrait, 
showing  the  frivolous  Julia  (well  known  as 
a  mollusk  in  the  Carroll  family  gossip) 
posing  as  a  perfect  mother  with  the  chil 
dren  entwined  about  her  in  a  graceful 
group  while  she  wore  an  appropriately 
low-cut  evening  gown. 

"To-day  in  town,"  reported  a  member  of 
the  colony,  "I  saw  Fred  and  Molly  Carroll 
in  their  brand-new  limousine.  It's  a  very 
567 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

smart  one  with  an  expensive  purr  and,  my 
dear,  they  have  put  their  crest  on  the  door." 

Now,  it  may  be  that  the  Carrolls  con 
sidered  crests  and  similar  bravery  rather 
unnecessary  in  the  land  of  the  free,  espe 
cially  when  so  fresh  from  a  very  different 
kind  of  colony  in  France,  with  different  as 
pirations  and  absurdities.  It  is  good  for 
Americans  to  go  abroad  and  see  some  real 
democracy  occasionally.  It's  so  quaint  and 
old-fashioned.  However,  Fred  could  not  very 
well  paint  out  the  crest,  even  though  he  was 
a  painter.  Besides,  it  was  only  for  one  year. 

Archie's  expensive  limousine,  by  the  way, 
was  worth  Fred's  entire  legacy.  And  yet 
instead  of  decreasing  his  capital  it  only 
seemed  to  put  the  Carrolls'  fortune  up  an 
other  peg.  It  now  soared  well  above  the 
million  mark,  and  they  seemed  to  be  getting 
richer  every  day. 

"That  chauffeur  of  Archie's  is  a  nice  fel 
low,"  said  Fred  to  Molly.  "He's  lent  me 
one  of  his  fur  coats."  Why  not  ?  George, 
a  clean-cut,  well-educated  young  American, 
had  three  coats  and  he  had  nothing  against 
568 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

Fred.  Even  the  coat  was  noted  by  members 
of  the  colony,  but  Molly's  clothes,  of  course, 
occasioned  more  comment.  "Doucet,  I 
think,  so  rich  and  yet  so  simple — that  in 
describable  something." 

The  acquisition  of  Molly's  new  outfit  was 
characteristic  of  the  Carrolls.  "  Before  we 
spend  all  this  money,"  Fred  had  remarked 
in  a  business-like  manner  at  Paris,  "you've 
got  to  get  a  lot  of  new  things." 

"We  can't  afford  it,"  protested  Molly 
weakly  but  with  a  gleam  in  her  eye. 

"We  can't  afford  not  to,"  replied  her 
more  practical  husband.  "Things  are  so 
cheap  here,  if  you  know  where  to  get  them, 
and  the  Lord  knows  when  we'll  ever  be  over 
again."  So,  with  the  aid  of  her  husband's 
talented  eye  for  color  and  design,  Mrs.  Car 
roll  became  the  complacent  possessor  of  a 
brand-new  trousseau,  which  was  not  only  of 
the  latest  mode — any  other  wealthy  woman 
could  achieve  that — but  also  of  a  subtle  orig 
inality  which  many  even  wealthier  women 
coveted.  It  should  be  added  that  Molly 
only  consented  to  this  extravagance  upon 
569 


THE  MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

the  express  understanding  that  Fred  would 
get  a  new  outfit  for  himself  while  in  London. 
That  was  the  way  they  usually  compro 
mised  in  the  interest  of  economy.  For  "if 
I  can  afford  it  then  you  can/'  she  declared 
logically.  And  so  they  dawned  upon  New 
York  looking  smart  and  quietly  distin 
guished. 

Now,  in  town,  of  course,  the  Carrolls  and 
their  wealth  were  not  taken  so  seriously. 
There  were  so  many  other  people  to  think 
and  talk  about,  and  there  was  hardly  enough 
wealth  to  make  an  impression  upon  our 
great  and  glorious  metropolis — only  two 
or  three  millions.  The  self-centred  city 
hasn't  time  to  go  into  details  or  look  be 
neath  the  surface.  It  takes  you  on  your 
face  value. 

It  seems  that  this  well-known  painter  and 
his  charming  wife  had  been  living  on  the 
Continent  for  some  time,  where  his  pictures 
had  been  making  all  kinds  of  a  hit  at  the 
Salons.  They  were  now  comfortably  set 
tled  down  for  the  season  in  New  York  to 
"execute  a  few  commissions"  and  to  have 
57° 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

as  good  a  time  as  possible,  like  every  one 
else,  before  returning  to  their  "artistic" 
country  place  and  their  beloved  garden  in 
the  spring.  For  the  rest,  they  had  an  atmos 
phere  of  cheerfulness  and  success  combined 
with  quiet  dignity  and  comfort.  We  all 
like  cheerfulness  better  than  gloom. 


VII 

The  guests  now  assembled  at  Molly  Car 
roll's  pretty  dinner-table  were  of  this  broad 
elective  acquaintanceship,  old  friends  and 
new,  lasting  or  temporary.  Formerly  the 
Carrolls  had  shown  a  regrettable  tendency, 
whenever  in  town,  to  drift  into  the  quick- 
whirling  eddies  of  the  'literary  and  artis 
tic"  crowd — despite  the  kindest  regards  for 
the  main  stream,  except  where  too  sluggish 
to  be  endured.  Now,  however,  they  were 
practising  what  they  had  often  preached. 
They  despised  narrowness.  Perhaps  they 
wished  to  spread  the  light.  Perhaps  they 
wished  to  sell  some  pictures. 

At  any  rate,   their  guests  of  honor  this 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

evening  were  none  other  than  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Sterling — the  new  Mrs.  Sterling,  the  old  one 
having  died.  Possibly  the  new  house,  which 
the  colony  now  called  Sterling  Castle,  had 
proved  too  much  for  the  old  wife,  though 
with  a  housekeeper  and  an  assistant  house 
keeper  and  thirty  servants — not  to  speak  of 
keeping  a  couple  of  smiling  social  secretaries 
about  the  place — even  the  barocco  ex 
uberance  oughtn't  to  have  troubled  her. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  liked  it,  poor 
thing.  It  made  her  feel  valuable,  just  as 
did  the  liveried  servants. 

The  new  Mrs.  Sterling  had  been  a  suc 
cessful  emotional  actress.  She  was  still  an 
actress,  playing  the  star  part  of  the  wife  of  a 
billionaire,  and  playing  it  quite  successfully 
too,  though  not  emotionally  so  far  as  one 
could  detect.  She  made  an  impressive  en 
trance  with  her  new  master,  wearing  about 
her  neck  the  dog  collar  of  plump  and  price 
less  pearls  he  had  given  her  as  well  as  a  peck 
or  two  of  diamonds  expensively  crowded 
upon  the  covered  and  uncovered  portions  of 
her  beautiful  body. 

572 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

She  had  not  wanted  to  come  here  very 
much.  She  had  known  plenty  of  painters 
in  her  brilliant  but  less  affluent  past.  She 
had  not  played  her  new  part  long  enough  to 
tire  of  it  as  yet.  She  still  felt  the  glamour 
of  rich  people,  just  as  some  rich  people  feel 
the  glamour  of  the  greenroom.  But  she 
felt  more  reconciled  to  her  husband's  wishes 
after  she  had  entered  the  house,  which, 
though  not  comparable  with  her  own,  was 
surprisingly  fine  for  a  mere  artist. 

The  Carrolls  had  not  particularly  wanted 
the  Sterlings  either,  but  they  had  never  had 
a  chance  before  to  return  the  former  Mrs. 
Sterling's  invitation  of  several  years  ago, 
so  they  were  taking  it  out  upon  the  second 
Mrs.  Sterling.  Besides,  in  their  present 
mellow  cheerfulness,  they  wanted  the  old 
man  to  see  that  they  cherished  no  animosity 
against  him  for  that  matter  of  the  Search  for 
Truth;  though,  as  it  happened,  Sterling  had 
borne  up  very  well  without  a  Frederic  Car 
roll  decoration  on  his  walls,  as  could  be 
seen  by  his  genial  expansiveness.  His  coun 
try  place  had  proved  a  great  success;  a  good 
573 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

many  of  the  colony  thought  it  a  fine  house, 
and  all  of  them  had  decided  to  accept  the 
Sterlings  (as  he  had  cynically  known  all 
along),  and  incidentally  he  had  become  a 
great  patron  of  the  arts,  as  any  one  could 
see  by  the  way  he  patronized  all  artists. 

So  it  was  not  altogether  surprising  that  he 
had  insisted  upon  accepting  this  surprising 
invitation.  He  was  more  surprised  to  find 
the  artist  so  comfortably  established.  "This 
explains  it  all,"  he  said  to  himself,  thinking 
of  the  Search  for  Truth.  It  was  too  bad. 
Painters  ought  to  be  poor.  For  this  col 
lector  of  paintings,  railroads,  and  other 
bric-a-brac  held  to  the  orthodox  faith  that 
for  those  who  do  the  real  work  of  the 
world,  like  manipulating  the  stock-market 
or  jacking  up  the  tariff,  money  was  a  good 
thing,  but  not  for  artists.  It  makes  them 
lazy. 

It  is  possible  that  Molly  derived  a  lit 
tle  mischievous  delight  from  showing  the 
Sterlings  that  a  simple  dinner  could  be  good 
and  that  even  better  people  would  come  to  it 
than  came  as  yet  to  Mr.  Sterling's  enormous 
574 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

chateau  on  the  Avenue.     She  seated  him 
next  to  Mrs.  Langham. 

It  was  Aline  Langham,  the  distinguished 
novelist,  who  not  only  wrote  of  the  highest 
society,  but  belonged  to  it — a  distinction  far 
from  common  among  writers  in  democratic 
America.  For  the  most  part  they  have  to 
put  up  with  the  company  of  those  who,  like 
themselves,  make  books  and  pictures,  not 
those  who  buy  such  wares,  though  it  stands 
to  reason  that  it  is  more  delightful  to  asso 
ciate  with  those  who  consume  products  than 
with  the  men  and  women  who  create  them. 
But  Mrs.  Langham  could  not  only  satirize 
in  fascinating  detail  the  expensive  "entour 
ages"  of  our  American  aristocracy,  but  she 
possessed  such  things  herself,  as  might  be 
seen  when  she  took  the  air  in  the  park  in  or 
der  to  become  refreshed  for  satirizing  the 
vanity  of  riches.  But  good  Queen  Victoria 
endured  a  far  more  complicated  domestic 
ritual  every  time  she  "drove  out,"  and  al 
though  she  wrote  some  letters  of  which  none 
of  her  family  need  be  ashamed,  the  late 
queen  could  not  have  written  one  of  Mrs. 
575 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Langham's  books  to  save  her  crown.  In 
America  all  our  women  are  queens.  They 
deserve  everything  that  makes  for  the  dignity 
and  grace  of  living,  and  those  who  jeer  at 
such  concomitants  of  an  advanced  stage  of 
civilization  only  show  that  they  are  out  of 
touch  with  the  Zeit-geist  of  true  democracy 
or  that  they  are  envious,  or  else,  worst  self- 
revelation  of  all,  that  they  have  not  had 
such  things  for  many,  many  generations  in 
their  own  family — an  admission  no  self-re 
specting  American  should  care  to  make. 

Now  the  Carrolls,  in  the  innocence  of 
their  hearts,  had  placed  Mr.  Sterling  next 
to  Mrs.  Langham,  supposing  that  the  novel 
ist  would  enjoy  the  opportunity  of  "study 
ing"  him.  But  that  experienced  lady  knew 
the  Sterling  type  by  heart  already.  It  is 
quite  too  common  in  America  nowadays, 
thanks  to  a  beneficent  combination  of  nat 
ural  resources  and  unnatural  laws.  But  it 
is  well  known  that  there  aren't  nearly  so 
many  newly  rich  painters.  Accordingly  the 
authoress  was  quietly  studying  her  host  and 
hostess  instead.  Being  a  psychologist,  she 
576 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

was  naturally  interested  in  observing  the 
effect  of  a  sudden  accession  of  wealth — not 
much,  to  be  sure,  only  five  millions — upon 
a  conscientious  painter  who  had  not  only 
an  eye  for  color  but  also  for  women,  and 
upon  his  rather  clever  wife,  who  was  am 
bitious  not  only  for  him  but  also  for  social 
success.  Every  woman,  of  course,  was 
socially  ambitious.  It  was  sheer  affecta 
tion,  inverted  snobbery,  to  pretend  other 
wise.  Thus  the  unsuspecting  Carrolls  bade 
fair  to  be  impaled  upon  Mrs.  Langham's 
pen  and  held  up  before  the  magnifying-glass 
of  her  projective  imagination  to  serve  as  a 
useful  example  to  the  world,  Fred  mean 
while  feeling  pleased  that  this  brilliant  and 
delightful  woman  had  fallen  under  Molly's 
charm,  and  Molly  that  Mrs.  Langham  was 
one  of  those  gifted  beings  who  appreciated 
the  genius  of  Frederic  Carroll. 

In  passing  it  is  worth  observing  that  Mrs. 
Langham  was  a  little  perplexed  to  account 
for  the  meagreness  of  the  Carrolls'  menage 
—only  one  man  servant,  and  a  poor  selec 
tion  at  that — for  being  a  true  literary  artist 
577 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

she  always  observed  servants  with  the  care 
fulness  of  a  highly  paid  housekeeper.  Home 
has  been  woman's  only  sphere  for  so  long 
that  it  seems  difficult  to  break  the  immemo 
rial  habit  of  the  sex.  The  Carrolls'  sim 
plicity  appealed  to  her  sense  of  fitness.  It 
showed  a  commendable  restraint,  an  artist's 
scorn  of  worldly  display.  It  might  be  a 
pose,  but  a  very  clever  one.  Nevertheless 
she  prophesied  with  a  mental  smile  that 
they  would  soon  grow  tired  of  this  over- 
simplicity.  The  dinner  itself  was  very  sim 
ple  too,  and  she  wondered  how  this  rather 
inexperienced  woman,  new  to  New  York, 
had  discovered  that  simple  dinners  just  then 
were  very  smart.  The  quick  adaptability 
of  the  American  wife  is  always  interesting  to 
novelists.  It  would  be  worth  a  paragraph. 
All  this  would  doubtless  have  interested 
the  Carrolls  if  they  had  only  been  aware  of 
it.  For  Fred  had  run  up  such  a  large  bar 
bill  at  the  club  purchasing  wines  for  these 
simple  return  dinners  that  his  name  had 
been  posted  for  non-payment  of  house 
charges.  However,  he  would  have  been 
578 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

willing  to  admit  that  the  dinner  was  good, 
and,  in  fact,  he  complimented  Molly  upon 
it  after  their  guests  were  gone  and  they  were 
talking  it  over.  "Big,  heavy  dinners/'  he 
said,  "are  so  vulgar,  Molly,  especially  when 
attempted  by  simple  people  like  ourselves. 
The  way  some  men  and  women  in  this 
town,  even  in  our  trade,  throw  a  bluff- 
even  some  of  the  real  ones — it  makes  me 
sick!" 

Now,  there  were  others  among  those  pres 
ent  who  took  thought  of  Molly's  dinner  and 
its  relation  to  her  husband's  wealth.  There 
was  Carlton  Stillman,  the  art  critic,  and  his 
clever  wife,  who  had  sharp,  black  eyes  which 
watched  everything.  Being  in  the  art- 
critic  business  they  were  both  rather  critical 
of  artists  just  as  patrons  of  the  arts  some 
times  patronize  them.  Mrs.  Stillman  tried 
not  to  be  aware  of  Molly's  very  successful 
evening  gown;  for  she  feared  it  was  a  Pa- 
quin;  and  she  sniffed  inwardly  at  the  frugal 
meal.  She  thought  the  Carrolls  rather 
stingy.  Now,  if  she  and  Carlton  ever  came 
in  for  any  money — but  then  they  never 
579 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

would;  they  had  no  rich  aunts  to  endow 
them.  Some  people  had  all  the  good-luck. 
Carlton  Stillman  was  an  old  friend  of 
Fred's  who  had  known  him  "when."  So 
as  he  had  failed  as  a  painter  himself  it  was 
difficult  to  accept  Fred's  affluence  and  his 
quiet  air  of  having  had  it  all  his  life  as  ami 
ably  as,  for  instance,  the  Sterlings,  though 
they,  it  should  be  remembered,  had  even 
greater  wealth.  Nor  could  he  look  down 
upon  it  with  the  godlike  detachment  of  a 
Mrs.  Langham,  who  had  the  novelist's  in 
difference  to  the  vanities  and  jealousies  of 
poor  human  nature.  When  the  Stillmans 
first  entered  the  drawing-room  and  caught 
sight  of  these  personages,  Carlton  and  his 
wife  exchanged  glances  as  much  as  to  say, 
"Dear  me!  Aren't  we  flattered?"  They 
were,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  rather  pleased  but 
were  too  much  afraid  of  showing  it.  So 
Carlton  maintained  a  satirical  smile  all  the 
evening  and  confided  to  the  woman  he  took 
out,  a  broker's  wife,  that  all  this  was  going 
to  ruin  Fred  Carroll,  as  a  painter.  "He 
used  to  be  a  very  good  sort,  simple  and  un- 
580 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

affected/'  said  the  critic,  "but  now  that  he 
has  come  in  for  all  this  wad  of  money- 
well,  I  see  his  finish/'  And  Carlton  shook 
his  head  sadly.  It's  the  critic's  function  to 
analyze  and  interpret.  "He  hasn't  been 
doing  much  lately  anyway.  I  suppose  he 
has  been  sitting  down  and  waiting  for  this 
to  fall  into  his  lap." 

"I  wonder  what  they  see  in  people  like 
the  Sterlings?"  replied  the  broker's  wife. 
She  had  a  soul  above  money,  not  being  the 
member  of  the  family  who  had  to  earn  it. 
She  was  quite  literary  and  artistic,  and  de 
voted  not  a  little  of  her  husband's  lucky 
turns  to  these  worthy  causes. 

"Oh,  like  seeks  like,"  Stillman  answered 
sagely.  "Wealth  wants  to  play  with  greater 
wealth.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Molly 
intended  eventually  to  marry  off  that  inno 
cent  little  daughter  of  hers  to  one  of  those 
young  reprobates  of  Sterling's  by  his  first 
wife." 

Another  friend  of  early  days  was  there, 
but  he  did  not  take  it  so  hard — the  husband 
of  the  broker's  wife.  He  had  been  one  of 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

Molly's  admirers  many  years  ago,  but  had 
got  over  it  enough  since  his  own  "ideal 
marriage"  to  admire  Fred  as  well  as  Molly. 
He  was  an  athletic,  generous-minded  fel 
low,  and  was  just  glad  to  see  these  two  de 
lightful  friends  "so  well  fixed/'  Indeed, 
he  thought  seriously  of  buying  a  picture — 
for  he  had  decided  this  evening  that  they 
must  be  pretty  good  pictures — if  the  market 
went  up  another  point,  especially  as  he  felt 
grateful  for  the  opportunity  of  meeting  the 
famous  Mr.  Sterling,  "one  of  the  biggest 
men  in  the  country."  He  appreciated  the 
honor,  it  seems,  somewhat  more  than  his 
wife  did.  In  fact,  he  watched  the  big  man 
all  the  evening,  remembered  every  word  he 
uttered,  laughed  emphatically  at  all  the  big 
man's  little  jokes  and  told  his  partners  about 
it  the  next  morning  in  the  office. 

Young  De  Courcey  was  there  too,  he  who 
had  sought  and  found  Truth  for  Mr.  Ster 
ling.  He  sat  on  Mrs.  Langham's  right,  and, 
apropos  of  the  propinquity  of  his  patron  on 
her  left,  he  asked  her  facetiously  if  she  had 
ever  seen  that  work  of  art.  "Well,  it's 
582 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

worth  going  miles  to  see/'  he  went  on  hu 
morously,  "though  perhaps,"  he  concluded 
in  a  worldly  whisper,  "Mrs.  Sterling's  house 
is  'going  some'  for  you."  Then  turning 
brightly  to  the  lady  on  his  other  side  he 
told  her  about  it  too.  She  was  the  art 
critic's  wife,  and  wives  should  always  be 
interested  in  their  husband's  profession. 
When  the  conversation  became  general  he 
decided  to  tell  the  rest  of  the  table  about 
it  all  at  once.  Then  they  would  all  know  it. 
"  But  all  the  same,"  he  remarked  apropos  of 
something  his  host  was  saying,  in  the  au 
thoritative  manner  of  hosts  at  the  end  of 
the  table,  as  to  the  relative  advantages  of 
town  and  country  for  working — "all  the 
same,  when  one  wants  the  work  of  real 
genius  to  gladden  one's  ancestral  halls  in 
the  country,  one  comes  to  town  to  look  for 
it.  Isn't  that  so,  Mr.  Sterling?"  he  added, 
with  a  laughing  glance  at  Fred.  For  he  had 
never  heard  the  truth  of  Fred's  connection 
with  the  Search. 

Now,  the  great  man  had  not  been  alto 
gether  happy  either  with  Mrs.  Langham  on 
583 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE    OF 

his  right  or  his  hostess  on  his  left.  He 
wanted  to  talk  high  art  with  them,  and  they 
insisted  upon  talking  high  finance  with  him. 
It  rather  hurt  his  feelings.  It  was  some 
what  aswhen  certain  sloppily  dressed  women 
called  on  the  Carrolls  and  talked  exclusively 
to  Fred,  except  when  they  turned  to  Molly  in 
pauses  saying,  "And  how  are  the  children  ?" 
So  Molly  ought  to  have  sympathized  with 
him.  At  any  rate,  he  became  so  piqued 
that  then  and  there  at  Molly  Carroll's  little 
dinner  he  decided  to  give  a  large,  expensive 
art  museum  to  his  native  city  out  West 
where  his  mill-hands  were  dying  of  typhoid 
according  to  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest.  And  he  did  so,  too,  though  Molly 
never  got  a  line  of  credit  for  it.  But  when 
this  glib  young  painter  turned  to  him  in 
that  assured  manner  he  was  thoroughly 
provoked.  In  the  respectful  silence  which 
followed  De  Courcey's  facetious  appeal,  the 
great  man  smiled  sardonically  and  said, 
"If  you  want  to  know  the  reason  you  got 
my  library  to  do,  it  was  because  my  old 
friend  Fred  here  recommended  you.  I 
584 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

offered  him  twenty-five  per  cent,  more  than 
you  got,  but  he  turned  the  job  down." 

The  hostess  laughed  quickly  to  make  it 
plain  that  it  was  all  good-natured  chaffing. 
So  did  the  host  and  several  of  the  guests, 
most  of  all  young  De  Courcey  himself.  But 
after  that  he  stared  at  the  centre-piece  and 
remained  silent,  crushed  by  the  heavy  hand 
of  capital.  That's  the  way  with  these  in 
fant  industries  unless  we  protect  them. 

Up  to  this  point  in  the  dinner  De  Courcey 
had  been  genuinely  pleased  at  seeing  a  nice, 
quiet  fellow  like  Fred  in  the  lap  of  luxury. 
"He's  a  thorough-bred,"  he  had  remarked 
to  Mrs.  Langham.  "Fits  the  frame  so 
well."  But  now  discovering  himself  under 
obligations  to  Carroll  he  disliked  him  for  it. 
"What  does  he  amount  to,  anyway?"  he 
said  to  himself,  with  a  glance  at  Fred, 
seated  at  the  head  of  a  brilliant  dinner-table 
looking  urbane  and  serene,  and  apparently 
without  a  care  in  the  world.  "Simply  be 
cause  he  has  money  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  patronize  me."  Alas,  one  must  pay 
the  price,  even  for  wealth.  And  after  that 
585 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

whenever  any  one  at  the  club  said,  "Good 
old  Fred's  wad  of  money  doesn't  seem  to 
have  changed  him,"  De  Courcey  always 
added,  "But  he  takes  too  much  pains  to 
show  that  it  hasn't  changed  him.  He 
thinks  we  are  thinking  about  his  money  all 
the  time,  simply  because  he  is." 

And  yet  it  is  safe  to  say  that,  as  the 
dinner  party  now  arose,  nearly  every  one  at 
the  table  had  given  thought  to  the  Carrolls' 
fortune,  liking  or  disliking  them  for  it,  ex 
cept  the  Carrolls  themselves,  who  seemed 
to  like  every  one  (including  themselves), 
beaming  graciously  upon  all  alike  and  now 
glancing  at  each  other  by  way  of  mutual 
congratulation  upon  the  success  of  the 
dinner. 

Indeed,  as  Fred  gallantly  drew  back  Mrs. 
Sterling's  chair,  he  felt  so  elated  and  expan 
sive  that  he  bestowed  upon  her  a  killing 
glance  and  said:  "How  unkind  of  you  to 
go!"  though  he  was  longing  manfully  for  a 
cigar  by  this  time. 

"  But  I  am  coming  to  your  studio  on 
Thursday,"  the  emotional  actress  returned, 
586 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

"to  see  that  painting  you  were  telling  me 
about." 

"If  you'd  only  let  me  paint  you!9'  he 
sighed,  though,  having  a  keen  eye  for  color 
and  women,  as  Mrs.  Langham  surmised,  he 
observed  that  he  had  been  anticipated. 

"Ah,  we  can  talk  that  over  when  you 
dine  with  us  next  week,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling, 
as  he  bowed  her  into  the  drawing-room  be 
side  the  apparently  unobserving  authoress. 
Then,  leading  the  men  away  to  the  library, 
he  held  a  light  for  the  broker's  cigar  and 
hospitably  tried  to  talk  about  the  unsettled 
condition  of  the  market,  though  being  ut 
terly  ignorant  of  such  things  he  made  a 
mess  of  it. 

"Ah,  ha,"  thought  the  observant  art  critic, 
with  the  satirical  smile.  "That's  what  inter 
ests  him  now.  Well,  he'll  probably  lose  it 
all.  Then  he  may  come  to  his  senses  and 
do  some  good  work."  Stillman  loved  art 
for  art's  sake. 


587 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

VIII 

Before  the  season  was  over  Fred  and 
Molly  occasionally  touched  that  effulgent 
pinnacle  of  success  which  brought  the  illus 
trious  Carroll  name  among  the  names  of 
others  present  who  had  possessed  wealth 
and  social  eminence  as  far  back  as  the 
memory  of  the  oldest  society  reporter  could 
reach.  Surely  this  sort  of  success  ought  to 
prove  demoralizing  to  an  impressionable 
young  painter,  even  without  the  comforting 
consciousness  of  wealth — adorable  women 
looking  into  his  eyes  and  telling  him  how 
they  adored  his  work,  which  they  had  never 
seen;  teas  in  his  studio  so  that  they  could 
see  it  and  adore  afresh;  younger  painters 
asking  him  to  come  to  their  studios  and 
kindly  criticise  their  work.  All  this  giddy 
whirl  of  flattery  might  reasonably  be  sup 
posed  to  turn  his  head. 

But,  regrettable  as  it  may  seem,  it  did 
nothing  of  the  sort.  Perhaps  the  atmos 
phere  of  feminine  admiration  made  him 
gallantly  ambitious  to  prove  worthy  of  the 
praise  of  the  women.  Perhaps  the  attitude 
588 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

of  respect  made  him  conscious  of  his  re 
sponsibilities  as  an  adviser  of  youth.  But 
more  likely  there  was  nothing  conscious 
about  it.  He  was  working  too  hard  by  day 
and  playing  too  hard  by  night.  He  hadn't 
time  to  think  about  himself,  nor  inclination; 
he  was  too  much  interested  in  other  people 
and  outside  things.  It  was  an  unconscious 
stimulation — the  subtle,  psychic  influence  of 
approbation.  At  any  rate,  he  was  getting 
through  a  lot  of  work  and  doing  it  well. 
Some  natures  thrive  on  excitement. 

Such  uplifts  are  quite  as  necessary  as  the 
dull  weight  of  adversity,  though  Carroll's 
New  England  ancestry  would  have  been 
loath  to  admit  it.  As  Mrs.  Sterling  told 
him  one  morning  in  the  studio,  in  the  old 
days — she  was  beginning  to  call  them  the 
"dear  old  days" — she  could  never  do  her 
best  except  when  she  felt  that  the  audience 
was  loving  her.  "No  wonder  you  were 
successful/'  said  the  painter,  and  he  was 
spurred  on  to  do  his  best  upon  the  head  he 
was  making  of  her,  even  more  than  in  his 
own  dreary  old  days  by  the  prattle  of  chil- 
589 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

dren's  voices  or  the  rattle  of  butchers' 
wagons.  And  at  tea  time,  instead  of  going 
home,  he  went  to  the  club.  And  this  used 
to  be  "the  children's  hour."  It  was  now 
father's  hour.  'Tis  sad,  but  it's  better  to 
work  for  them  than  play  with  them. 

The  head  was  shown  at  the  mid-winter 
exhibition  of  the  Academy  of  Design.  It 
attracted  considerable  attention.  Those 
who  did  not  like  him  said  that  this  was  be 
cause  of  the  interest  in  the  subject  rather 
than  the  skill  of  the  work.  It  attracted 
attention  all  the  same.  Moreover,  it  re 
ceived  an  honorable  mention  in  the  com 
petition  for  the  Bronson  prize.  Some  of 
his  acquaintances  were  puzzled.  They  had 
hardly  expected  him  to  do  anything  really 
good.  He  was  supposed  to  have  dropped 
out  of  the  running  now  that  he  was  rich  and 
lazy. 

"I  always  told  you  he  could  do  serious 
work — if  he  only  tried,"  was  the  "what  did 
I  tell  you?"  comment  of  those  who  had 
once  said,  "great  promise,"  and  had  not 
lost  faith  in  him. 

59° 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

Mrs.  Sterling  had  a  great  deal  of  faith  in 
him.  She  bought  two  of  the  pictures  that 
he  was  preparing  for  his  own  exhibition  in 
the  spring,  before  he  had  a  chance  to  exhibit 
them.  She,  too,  had  become  a  patron  of 
the  arts.  It  ran  in  the  family.  One  of  the 
canvases  she  bought  appealed  to  her  as 
so  divine — this  was  her  word  at  present, 
"divine"  —that  she  could  hardly  stand  it, 
so  she  turned  her  face  away  and  wept  beau 
tifully.  She  was  beginning  to  bore  him 
dreadfully.  That  was  why  he  said  such 
nice  things  to  her.  She  dropped  into  the 
studio  at  all  hours,  but  as  she  sometimes 
brought  friends  and  some  of  them  were 
likely  to  buy  pictures,  Fred,  as  the  father  of 
a  family,  could  not  very  well  put  her  out. 

In  May  came  the  "Exhibition  of  Paint 
ings  by  Frederic  Carroll,"  at  McPherson's. 

It  could  hardly  be  said  that  the  gallery 
was  crowded,  though  Mrs.  Sterling  testified 
humorously  that  there  was  standing  room 
only.  At  any  rate,  never  before  had  so 
many  people  come  to  see  his  pictures,  not 
only  the  usual  sprinkling  of  those  who  paint 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

or  write  or  collect,  but  others  who  had  gone 
to  their  country  places  by  this  time  made 
special  trips  to  town  in  high-powered  cars. 
Perhaps  their  fluttering  presence  irritated 
certain  of  the  critics.  In  the  old  days  they 
had  usually  dismissed  Frederic  Carroll  with 
a  brief  commendatory  notice.  But  now 
that  he  was  favored  by  the  financial  and 
social  gods,  the  critics  discussed  his  work 
in  long  condemnatory  notices,  beginning 
"After  a  long  silence,"  charging  him  with 
dilettanteism,  with  displaying  his  indiffer 
ence,  with  engaging  in  subtleties. 

Some  of  them,  however,  treated  him  more 
kindly  and  spoke  of  his  "  distinction  of  man 
ner."  Fred  liked  that.  Another,  a  young 
man  with  elaborately  fashionable  clothes, 
said,  "He  paints  like  a  gentleman,"  which 
offended  Fred's  professional  pride.  Carlton 
Stillman  summed  it  up  authoritatively  thus: 
"Leisure  should  be  used  for  taking  pains, 
not  for  showing  that  one  is  free  from  the 
necessity  to  do  so."  And  he  implied  a 
scorn  of  being  understood.  For  Art  has  to 
do  with  things  as  they  seem,  not  as  they 
592 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

are.  Thus  a  work  of  art  can  seem  so  many 
different  things  to  so  many  different  men. 

"You  mustn't  let  a  little  thing  like  that 
bother  you/'  said  an  older  painter  to  Fred. 
"It's  much  better  than  being  dismissed 
with  a  light  pat  on  the  back  and  then  for 
gotten." 

Another  painter,  a  man  whom  Fred  had 
never  met,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  newspaper 
defending  Frederic  Carroll  from  the  charge 
of  dilettanteism,  and  paying  his  respects  to 
critics  who  didn't  know  paint  when  they  saw 
it.  "It  is  the  ease  that  comes  of  years  of 
labor,"  said  the  letter,  "the  confidence  of  a 
master  hand." 

"Now  there,"  said  Fred  to  Molly,  "is  a 
man  that  understands  me." 

All  of  this  drew  more  attention  to  the  art 
of  Frederic  Carroll.  The  picture-buying 
crowd  did  not  mind  the  charge  of  dilettan 
teism.  Perhaps  some  of  them  did  not  know 
what  it  meant;  perhaps  others  did,  and 
accepted  the  phrase  at  its  etymological  value. 
At  any  rate,  both  kinds  became  more  in 
terested  in  Frederic  Carroll  and  his  work — 
593 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

a  man  who  "did  not  have  to  work  unless 
he  wanted  to/'  and  yet  did  good  work,  and 
won  honorable  mentions !  There  are  always 
a  few  such  noble  souls.  Every  one  respects 
them,  rich  and  poor  alike.  .  .  .  Things  were 
coming  the  Carrolls'  way  at  last.  Well,  why 
not?  It  seems  no  more  than  fair  play. 
Even  a  mercenary  mistress  is  human.  The 
Freds  had  snubbed  her  enough  in  the  past 
to  make  her  set  her  cap  for  them,  cajole 
them,  win  them.  Was  it  not  all  "cause  and 
effect" — "the  survival  of  the  fittest?" 

McPherson  the  art  dealer  dropped  into 
the  studio  one  day.  "Say!  we  didn't  do 
a  thing  to  'em!"  he  said.  "We  must  have 
another  show  in  the  fall.  It's  the  pyscho- 
logical  moment." 

"That's  impossible,"  said  Fred.  "I've 
got  to  have  some  rest  this  summer." 

"What  have  you  in  these  old  portfolios  ?" 

"Old  stuff,  done  several  years  ago,  never 
exhibited.  It's  rotten." 

But  when  McPherson  looked  at  it  he  pro 
nounced  it  "swell."  He  said:  "It's  in  a 
different  mood,  but  it's  good  work."  Molly 
594 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

backed  up  the  art  dealer.  So  did  an  older 
painter,  one  of  the  big  ones  whose  opinion 
Fred  respected.  And  now  a  curious  thing 
happened.  Fred  put  his  head  on  one  side, 
squinted  his  eyes  and  decided  that  it  was 
not  so  bad  after  all.  In  fact,  he  was  quite 
pleased  with  some  of  the  canvases  which  he 
had  once  cursed  in  impotent  despair.  "A 
work  of  art  can  seem  so  many  different 
things  to  so  many  different  men."  Fred 
was  a  different  man  now  that  fame  was 
thinking  about  him. 


IX 

But,  alas!  before  the  exhibition  took  place 
in  the  fall,  just  when  the  tide  was  turning, 
when  articles  were  being  written  about  the 
art  of  Frederic  Carroll,  when  he  was  re 
ceiving  honors,  such  as  invitations  to  lect 
ure  before  select  gatherings  of  young  women, 
when  all  life  seemed  bright  with  promise  and 
good  cheer  and  uplift,  just  when  Fred  and 
Molly  were  about  to  take  another  step 
heavenward  in  New  York,  the  sad  but  in~ 
595 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

teresting  news  went  out  that  the  Carrolls 
had  lost  their  money. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  they've  given  up  their 
town  house  and  have  moved  into  one  of 
those  co-operative  studio  apartments.  They 
have  rented  their  own  place  in  the  country 
for  three  years.  They  have  even  given  up 
their  car!" 

"  I  suspected  that  something  was  the  mat 
ter  all  along,"  said  the  broker,  to  whom  Fred 
had  tried  to  talk  stocks.  "He's  hopeless  in 
money  matters." 

"This  explains  their  apparent  lack  of 
public  spirit  when  it  came  to  subscribing 
for  charities,"  said  the  broker's  wife. 

"  It  all  goes  to  prove,"  said  De  Courcey  to 
some  of  the  fellows  at  the  club,  "that  you 
never  can  tell  by  outward  appearances  what 
is  going  on  inside  of  a  man." 

"I  always  knew  that  Fred  wasn't  a  snob 
at  heart,"  said  another,  "but  I  suppose  he 
was  worrying  a  good  deal  and  that  affected 
his  manner."  This  explained  it  all. 

Every  one  agreed  that  Fred  and  Molly 
were  showing  a  beautiful  spirit.  They  ut- 
596 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

tered  not  one  word  of  complaint.  To  be 
sure,  they  disliked  giving  up  their  house  in 
the  country,  but  they  hoped  some  day  to 
get  it  back  again.  Meanwhile  the  children 
were  old  enough  to  thrive  in  town  and  the 
family  must  follow  the  job.  They  liked 
their  bright,  airy  duplex  apartment  far  more 
than  the  house  they  had  resigned.  Even 
Molly's  made-over  Paris  clothes  did  not 
sanctify  her  spirit,  for  she  had  intended  to 
make  them  over  all  along.  Paris  styles  are 
always  a  season  ahead  of  New  York's.  But 
the  women  said  she  was  taking  it  all  so 
bravely.  Even  those  who  hadn't  liked  her 
now  said  so. 

"Well,  I  told  you  he'd  lose  his  money," 
said  Carlton  Stillman  to  his  wife,  with  a  smile 
of  regret.  "Now  he'll  settle  down  and  work. 
He's  got  to." 

And  sure  enough  he  had  another  exhibi 
tion,  quite  early  in  the  fall!  This  showed 
how  industrious  he  had  been  since  he  lost  his 
fortune.  And  when  Fred's  selections  from 
his  early  work  which  he  had  been  touching 
up  during  the  summer  were  exhibited  ai 
597 


THE   MARRIED   LIFE   OF 

McPherson's,  Carlton  Stillman  was  the  first 
to  sound  the  praise  of  Frederic  Carroll's 
"new"  manner.  "This  more  recent  work 
sounds  a  deeper  note,"  announced  that  well- 
known  authority,  "showing a  more  matured 
understanding  of  the  inherent  pathos  and 
yet  the  inherent  beauty  of  nature." 

"It  must  be  fine  to  be  a  critic,"  said 
Molly  to  Fred. 

"But  I  always  told  you  he  was  a  sincere 
sort  of  chap,"  said  Fred  to  Molly. 

Perhaps  the  other  critics  felt  the  same 
psychic  influence,  or  else  like  the  other 
painters  they  all  agreed  to  stand  by  good 
old  Fred  Carroll  in  his  time  of  trouble. 

"That's  the  way  to  make  these  lazy 
artists  work,"  thought  Mr.  Sterling,  looking 
on.  And  perhaps  that  was  the  way  the 
rest  of  the  buying  public  looked  at  it,  for 
McPherson  sold  all  of  these  pictures  in  the 
new  manner  and  most  of  those  left  over 
from  the  heyday  of  Carroll's  affluence.  Not 
only  that,  but  he  asked  for  more.  Fred  re 
fused.  Not  only  because  he  knew  better 
than  to  overstock  his  market,  but  because 
598 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

he  had  promised  Mr.  Sterling  to  take  on  a 
big  decorative  scheme  for  the  foyer  of  the 
magnificent  museum  which  that  great  and 
good  man  was  building  in  a  Western  city. 
"  Carry  out  your  own  idea/'  said  Sterling. 
"You're  the  doctor.  Only  I'd  advise  you  to 
let  me  invest  the  commission  for  you.  You're 
not  fit  to  handle  money,  Fred,  my  boy." 

And  yet,  strangely  enough,  it  was  this 
very  loss  of  his  money  that  had  been  the 
making  of  him,  as  every  one  knew,  includ 
ing  Mrs.  Langham,  who  expressed  the  same 
idea  in  a  more  subtle  way  in  her  searching 
psychological  story  called  "Redemption." 

To  be  sure,  Fred  had  originally  planned 
to  be  a  portrait  painter.  This  worthy  am 
bition  was  never  to  be  carried  out.  But 
what  of  it  ?  No  one  ever  constructs  his 
career  according  to  plans  and  specifications. 
But  now  the  Carroll  children  would  at  least 
have  a  chance  to  make  the  attempt. 

"Well,  it's  not  such  a  bad  world  after  all," 
said  Fred  on  the  day  of  his  election  to  a  cer 
tain  office  in  the  Academy. 

599 


THE   MARRIED    LIFE    OF 

"There  are  good  people  in  it,"  said  Mol 
ly.  They  were  walking  home  together  in 
the  twilight — from  a  reception  "to  meet 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic  Carroll." 

"It's  a  good  world,"  repeated  Fred  in  the 
kindly,  authoritative  manner  of  good  hus 
bands,  and  he  seemed  so  convinced  of  it 
that  he  gave  a  half-dollar  to  a  shabbily 
dressed  fellow-man  shivering  at  the  corner. 
The  latter,  too,  was  an  authoritative  hus 
band,  but  he  had  been  out  of  work  for  three 
months  owing  to  what  Roger  called  "artifi 
cial  over-production"  in  the  steel  industry, 
in  order  to  create  real  earnings  for  honest 
stockholders  like  Fred  who  did  not  believe 
in  buying  on  margins.  It  was  too  much 
like  gambling. 

"The  fit  always  survive!"  said  Molly  with 
a  sigh  as  they  turned  away  toward  the  cheer 
ing  lights  of  home  and  those  waiting  to 
welcome  them  there.  "True  merit  thrives 
upon  adversity,  as  your  Aunt  Bella  used  to 
say." 

"All  the  same,  Molly,  there's  an  occa 
sional  grain  of  truth  in  those  old  copy-book 
600 


THE   FREDERIC    CARROLLS 

maxims,"  said  her  husband  who  was  now 
successful.  Being  a  man  he  took  a  less 
personal  view  of  life,  for  he  went  on,  "If  I 
have  won  out,  it  seems  to  me  more  despite 
bad  luck,  than  because  of  good  luck.  Aunt 
Bella's  will,  for  example." 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  Molly  proudly,  "you've 
won — all  alone." 

"That's  where  you're  wrong,"  said  her 
natural  leader  with  his  nicest  look.  "If  it 
hadn't  been  for  you  and  the  kids — why, 
I'd  have  had  no  incentive  to  do  my  best! 
Don't  you  see?" 

Doubtless  Molly  saw,  but  she  only  smiled 
oddly.  "Genius  always  triumphs  in  the 
end,"  she  said  teasingly,  and  they  turned 
in  at  their  happy  home. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  Fred  remarked 
opening  the  door.  "  But  there  is  one  thing 
I  can  honestly  say,"  he  added  with  the  be 
coming  modesty  of  a  man  of  achievement, 
"what  little  I  have  accomplished  in  my  life 
has  been  without  bluffing  any  one — not  even 
myself." 

"I  know,  dear,"  said  Molly.  And  such 
601 


THE   FREDERIC   CARROLLS 

was  her  approval  of  him,  it  seems,  that  tears 
came  to  her  soft  eyes  as,  laughing,  she  looked 
up  at  him  and  passed  through  the  open 
door,  where  they  were  met  by  the  insistent 
rising  generation — too  young  to  understand 
this  strange  mingling  of  tears  and  laughter 


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